


Believe In Me

by FrostKitten



Series: Be A Hero [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Anxiety, Attempt at Japanese Honorifics, Bakugou Katsuki is a Bad Friend, Bug Catcher Midoriya Izuku, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genius Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko's Bad Parenting, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Midoriya Izuku is a Ray of Sunshine, Midoriya Izuku's Determination, Midoriya Izuku's Hero Analysis For The Future Notebooks, NaNoWriMo 2020, Neglectful Midoriya Inko, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pokemon Trainer Bakugou Katsuki, Pokemon Trainer Midoriya Izuku, Pokemon Trainer Shinsou Hitoshi, Pokemon Training, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Quirkless Discrimination (My Hero Academia), Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming, Violence against minors, Worldbuilding, no beta we die like sir nighteye, red shoe theory, that's not a tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostKitten/pseuds/FrostKitten
Summary: Midoriya Izuku is determined to become a hero even without a quirk. His mother, classmates, teachers, and everyone else seems against it—at least until he finds some support.
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Blipbug | Sacchimushi, Midoriya Izuku & Midoriya Inko, Midoriya Izuku & Satoshi | Ash Ketchum, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi & Satoshi | Ash Ketchum
Series: Be A Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128698
Comments: 91
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The blooming of the Gracidea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705765) by [The_Fluffy_Villain_Fluff_Master](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fluffy_Villain_Fluff_Master/pseuds/The_Fluffy_Villain_Fluff_Master). 



> Hey guys! Welcome to my story; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> One thing I'm going to drop here is that this story is exclusive to AO3. It's not even posted on my FFN account. PLEASE DO NOT POST THIS WORK TO ANOTHER SITE. If you see it posted anywhere else, you can safely assume I did NOT post it; please let me know and/or report for plagiarism.
> 
> If my story has inspired you to write one of your own, or if you like one of the ideas you see here and want to use, by all means, please do! You don't even have to tell me about it, though I hope you do because I'd love to read it. But that is NOT an excuse for plagiarism; I take that very seriously.
> 
> Thank you so much, and enjoy!

Not all men are born equal. This is a lesson Midoriya Izuku learns at a very young age.

* * *

Eighty percent of the world’s current population have special abilities, referred to as “quirks.” Each one is unique, even if some might be similar. No two are exactly alike, even within the same family.

The remaining twenty percent do not have these abilities. They are referred to as “quirkless.” But even among this twenty percent, the majority are older. The odds of a quirkless child being born in the current day and age is something on the order of one in a thousand. And even then, only a few make it to high school, let alone adulthood.

Most quirks come in some time between a child’s fourth and fifth birthdays, though it might sometimes come early, or as late as six years old. A handful are even born with theirs.  
  
When a quirk comes, it’s a time of celebration. It dictates how the rest of a child’s life will go, even more so than what Pokemon they receive as their starter—after all, a child’s starter is usually chosen to compliment their quirk, either to help strengthen its effects or help control it.

* * *

Izuku is like any other four-year-old child. He runs around with his friends, plays Heroes vs Villains, and is generally very happy with his life. Sure, he hasn’t seen his dad, Hisashi, in a while, and his mom, Inko, is sometimes a little overanxious, but that’s okay!

Although, Mama’s feeling a little anxious now, Izuku is pretty sure. Izuku has been four for almost three whole months now, and he still hasn’t gotten his quirk, even though he’s the last in his class to not have one. He and Mama are now sitting in a doctor’s office.

Mama is staring at Tsubasa-sensei so hard Izuku is surprised he isn’t reacting. She’s got the same look on her face she gets when she thinks Izuku is lying to her (which he never, ever does! Even if it gets him in trouble, he never lies to her). Izuku is sitting in a chair next to her, clutching his favorite All Might toy to his chest and trying not to bounce in his seat. He can’t help it, though! He’s so excited. Tsubasa-sensei can tell them what type of quirk Izuku will have, and probably how much longer before it comes in, or what might be able to trigger it. And he can’t wait for his quirk—he and Kacchan are going to be the best hero team ever! He doesn’t even mind all the needle sticks he had to get—they had to draw blood for one of their tests—or that he had to hold really, _really_ still for the x-rays. Ooooh, maybe he’ll get a fire quirk like his dad’s—Kacchan’s quirk was explosion and works by igniting his sweat, so a fire quirk could really help there! Or maybe he’ll get a telekinetic quirk, like Mama’s! She could show him the best ways to use it, and that would be super useful for everything from rescue operations to fighting to arresting villains! Or, or! If he’s really _super_ lucky he could get a combination of the two—what could that be like? Probably a type of pyrokinesis.

“So, doctor?” Inko’s voice is hesitant and soft, but still sounds really loud in the quiet of the office. “Do you know when Izuku’s quirk will come in? It’s just that all the other kids in his class have theirs already, and I need to start figuring out what kind of starter might be good for my little hero.” She fidgets nervously, hands twisting in her lap, but she shoots Izuku a small, warm smile. He loves that smile. “And I know they can technically manifest as late as six, but that’s not all that common—”

“Midoriya-san,” Tsubasa-sensei interrupts. He turns in his chair to face them—and no fair, because he has one of those spinny chairs! Those are fun, why couldn’t they have one of those? “I’m afraid that won’t happen.” His face is blank, almost bored, and his tone sounds like he’s talking about the weather. Izuku drops his All Might toy, his excited smile freezing in place, even though he really wants to frown. No, he can’t frown!

He’s going to be a hero, and All Might always says a hero has to be able to save people with a smile.

“I-I’m sorry?” Mama’s voice is faint, her shoulders hunched. “What do you mean—my baby won’t have a quirk?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Tsubasa-sensei snaps a piece of dark plastic onto a box on the wall and flicks a switch—the front of the box lights up, revealing a stark white picture. “Now, you mentioned on the paperwork that you and your husband both have quirks? Fourth generation?”

“Oh, yes!” Inko holds out her hand, and Izuku’s toy floats up to it. “My quirk is called ‘Attraction of Small Objects,’ which lets me pull small objects to myself, but not anything heavier than…oh, I don’t know, ten pounds? And nothing larger than a medium sized book. Hisashi, my husband, has a fire breathing quirk.”

“With each generation of quirk users, manifestation has happened earlier and earlier,” Dr. Tsubasa explains, leaning back in his chair. “That’s why all his classmates have their quirks already. While it’s entirely possible to manifest a quirk as late as six years old, for someone who _should_ be a fifth generation quirk user, it should have manifested already. And there’s one other thing to consider.” He points to the film. “This is an x-ray of one of Midoriya-kun’s feet. As you can see, he has a double pinky toe joint.”

“But…what does that have to do with anything?” Inko asks, bewildered. Izuku, smile still fixed, stares at the x-ray.

“Early on, when quirks were first appearing,” the doctor explains, “they did a lot of research to see if they could find _any_ kind of correlation in quirk users—at the time it was to identify them for more nefarious purposes than now, but they _did_ manage it. One of the things they noticed is that quirk users only have one toe joint on that toe—the second is unnecessary, so it evolved out. But the quirkless still have it.”

(It’s the first time Izuku has ever heard that term, but it will be far, far from the last.)

“So I’m afraid Midoriya-kun is going to have to give up on being a hero.”

* * *

The car ride home is quiet. Mama doesn’t talk to him, and Izuku spends it staring silently out the window, his All Might toy once again clutched tight.

He doesn’t know what to think. Tsubasa-sensei—Tsubasa-kun’s grandfather, which is why they went to him, because they trust him—said he couldn’t be a hero because he won’t be getting a quirk. But…but surely that doesn’t matter too much? Does it? Sure, all the heroes he sees on the news have quirks, but they also have their Pokemon, and a lot of them also fight with their fists, not just their quirks, so a quirk isn’t always necessary.

Maybe…maybe he can still be a hero. He won’t be the strongest hero, maybe, but he can still be one. He and Kacchan can be heroes together still, right? They’ll still make it to Number One, won’t they?

The more he thinks, the more determined he becomes. Because yeah, there are plenty of heroes who rescue people without even using their quirks for it. Or sometimes they have non-physical quirks, though he hasn't seen very many and they don't show up on the news anywhere near as often.

And hey! Since he doesn’t have a quirk, his options for a Pokemon starter are a lot more open, aren’t they? He could have just about anything! Mama probably won’t get him anything too expensive or dangerous, but that’s perfectly fine! All Might said in an interview that any Pokemon can be good for hero work if it’s trained correctly, so he isn’t worried about having something rare or super powerful. Even if it starts out weak, he’s confident he can make it strong.

When they get home, Mama leads the way inside, still silent, shoulders slumped. Izuku doesn’t like that, but his quiet “Mama?” doesn’t garner any kind of response. He takes his shoes off and slips on his house slippers, bright blue and yellow, while his mom changes into her own soft brown pair. She walks into the kitchen and starts the process of making dinner, even though it’s a little early for it.

Every time she uses her quirk to pull an ingredient toward her, like she normally does, she flinches and looks at him, eyes shining with tears. He wonders why—is she looking for something? A reaction? But why would he react differently to her using her quirk? It’s normal.

Eventually he tires of watching her and wanders over to the computer, which is set up in his mom’s room, and wakes the screen without even turning on the bedroom light. He finds the bookmark for his favorite video of All Might’s debut—it’s so amazing, so cool, even if Mama thinks it’s too scary. The pro hero saved over a thousand people from a disaster, and never once did he stop smiling.

Izuku has always known he can’t be a hero _exactly_ like All Might. It would be kind of impossible, since no one in his family has a strength or general enhancement quirk, which is what the pro hero in question seems to have. And he’s always been okay with that.

_“So I’m afraid Midoriya-kun is going to have to give up on being a hero.”_

He shakes his head to clear the memory away. No, he can still be a hero. He will!

A shadow falls over the screen, and Izuku turns to the darkened doorway. His mom is standing there, staring at the computer screen with a look of absolute terror on her face. Oh! He hurriedly pauses the video, remembering how Mama said the other day that it is much too scary for her to watch.

He smiles at her as brightly as he can—like All Might, he reminds himself, saving everyone with a smile. “Don’t worry, Mama,” he says, cheerful determination filling his voice. He holds his All Might figurine close to his chest—a promise, a _vow_. “I’m still going to be a hero. I’m going to save people anyway, even without a quirk!”

She runs to him and grabs him in a tight hug, sobbing. Her tears drip onto his shoulder, her arms are tight around his shoulders, and her voice is so broken that at first he can’t make out what she’s saying, over and over and over again.

“I’m sorry, Izuku, I’m so, so sorry—”

His eyes burn with tears. Why…why is she sorry? Why is she crying? He’s confused, and he’s always been an emotional crier—he gets that from Inko—so his confusion leaves him with blurry vision and wetness on his cheeks. “I-it’s okay, Mama, you don’t have to be sorry! I-I’m going to b-be a hero!”

But she only cries harder, and he can’t help the bewildered tears that drip steadily down his face in response.

* * *

Monday rolls around. Inko and Izuku arrive early at the daycare, and Izuku has to wait in the hall while his mom talks to the staff, including his daycare instructor. It’s odd because usually Mama drops him off at the front and continues on her way to her job as a paralegal. The conversation is muffled by the closed office door and distance, so Izuku doesn’t hear what’s said, but afterward his mom walks out and hugs him, her face etched with worry.

His daycare instructor follows right behind her. The young lady gives him a small smile, her face twisted oddly in a way he doesn’t recognize.

(Years later, he’ll realize it was pity. He’s never had anyone pity him before, so he didn’t recognize it immediately, but it’s far from the last time he’ll see it, so he eventually learns.)

She offers him her hand, and he takes it. “Come on, Midoriya-kun. Let’s get to class, okay?”

Even though he’s never gotten lost on his way to the classroom before and has always walked there on his own (he only needed help _once_ , and that was on the first day), Satou-sensei keeps a firm grip on him. She walks quickly, enough so that Izuku almost has to run to keep up with her, and she doesn’t look down at him once.

She sits him down at his normal table, the one he shares with Kacchan, Tsubasa-kun, and Kakuchou-kun, and lets him color quietly while they wait for the rest of the students to arrive. It isn’t long before that happens and all three of his closest friends settle next to him (he’s friends with everyone in class, but these three are closest, and Kacchan is _best_ ).  
  
Once the bell rings, Satou-sensei stands, smiling wanly at them, and claps her hands. “Alright, everyone, I have an announcement.” It takes about a minute for everyone to settle fully down, but once they do, their attention is undivided. “Midoriya-kun has just had an appointment with a quirk specialist over the weekend.”

“Really?” Kacchan turns to him with a sharp grin, palms sparking lightly against the faux wood grain of the desk. “Did the doc tell you what your quirk is gonna be? Or did it come in over the weekend?”

“Um, well…” Izuku fidgets as the entire class turns to look at him, staring expectantly. He had been hoping to tell Kacchan during recess—he didn’t think he would have to tell the whole class at once!

“Eyes on me,” their teacher calls firmly. “Now, according to Midoriya-kun’s mother, he won’t be getting a quirk.” Her voice is patient and pitched high in false-cheer. “That means we all have to be really careful to make sure he doesn’t accidentally get hurt, okay? That means we all have to be careful when we play with him at recess.”

The class choruses back in understanding, and Satou-sensei moves on. But Izuku can feel everyone’s eyes on him now—a crawling feeling that makes his shoulders draw up tight. He hates it.

At recess, most of the class avoids him, except his three friends. He doesn’t think much of it—these three are who he normally plays with, and he can count on one hand the number of times he’s played with his other classmates and still have fingers left over. So he simply follows Kacchan out to the field, like they normally do, smiling brightly.

“Let’s play Heroes vs Villains,” Tsubasa-kun announces. He’s a short, round boy with bat-like wings sticking out of his shoulders. He was born with them, though they used to be tiny, barely there. Then, just after he turned four, they suddenly started growing, and now they’re twice as long as he is tall, when they’re stretched out to their fullest. Izuku already knew Tsubasa-kun would be an amazing hero—flighted heroes were rare, and they tended to be good at rescue and information gathering.

“I wanna be the hero first!” Izuku yells, bouncing excitedly in place.

His friends glance at each other, then stare at him awkwardly, like they’re not sure what to say. Izuku stills, watching them uncertainly. What’s wrong? The rule is, whoever calls it first plays the role first, and decides who gets to play the other parts. Then they rotate, so everyone gets a turn. It’s how they’ve always played.

Finally, Kacchan breaks the silence. “Nah,” he says boisterously, pumping his fist in the air. “ _I’m_ gonna be the hero first. Wings, you can be my sidekick. Fingers, you can play the villain.”

“Then what am I gonna do, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, pouting slightly. Not only did Kacchan steal the hero role out from under him, but then he gets passed up as a sidekick? Is Kacchan upset with him? But he doesn’t seem upset…

Kacchan grabs his wrist and leads him to a tree. “Sit here,” he orders. Izuku does, sitting on a bit of tree root sticking out of the ground and in the shade. “You’re gonna be the civilian we have to rescue from the villain.”

“Oh, um…” Izuku blinks, a little startled. This is a new role…but Izuku gets to play it first! He grins. “Okay, Kacchan!”

With a satisfied nod, Kacchan runs back to the other two and the game begins.

Being the civilian is boring, Izuku quickly decides. He can’t do anything but sit under the tree. He’s not allowed to call out help to Tsubasa-kun or Kacchan. He’s so glad when the first round is over—Kacchan and Tsubasa-kun won, of course, but any team Kacchan is on always wins, so it’s not a surprise.

He assumes that adding this new role won’t change their game’s rules. That assumption is helped along when Tsubasa-kun takes over as hero, and Kakuchou-kun switches to sidekick. Izuku stands and brushes himself off, preparing to be that round’s villain and letting Kacchan be the civilian.

But Kacchan, when he sees him, storms over and pushes him back down. “You’re the civilian, Izu, remember?”

And then, while Izuku watches with wide eyes, Kacchan becomes the villain and the game resumes.

“Okay,” he mutters, folding his arms across his chest. He pouts at the grass. Fine, then. Maybe Kacchan changed the rules and Izuku gets to be the hero last. He doesn’t know why he can’t play one of the other roles, but it’s fine. He’ll get to play the hero at least, right?

But then the bell rings, signaling the end of recess, and Izuku still hasn’t moved from his spot. He hasn’t been allowed to play hero, sidekick, or even villain, not once.

* * *

After a week of being stuck playing the civilian all recess, Izuku’s had enough. He refuses to sit under the tree again, stomping his foot angrily like he’s seen Kacchan do whenever he fights with Auntie Mitsuki.

“I want to play, Kacchan!” he shouts, eyes filling with angry tears. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly barred from his favorite game, but that’s what it is—he isn’t “playing” the civilian, he’s just sitting there! Like a doll! “Why can’t I play the hero this round?”

“You can’t play the hero!” Kacchan yells back, fists balled up at his sides. He stomps his foot right back. “You don’t have a quirk!”

“I don’t need a quirk to be a hero,” Izuku insists. His face is wet and burns with frustration. “I can be one anyway!” Tsubasa-kun and Kakuchou-kun back away from the two slowly, eyes shifting restlessly from Izuku to Kacchan and back, like some kind of demented tennis match.

“No you can’t! Heroes have quirks and you don’t, so you can’t be a hero!”

Neither of them are willing to give an inch, and they wind up glaring at each other for a few minutes. They break off at the same time, turning and stomping away from each other. After a few seconds, Tsubasa-kun and Kakuchou-kun turn to follow Kacchan to the other end of the field, where they wind up playing Heroes vs Villains without Izuku.

It makes his stomach feel weird and sour.

* * *

The next day, Izuku follows his friends outside at recess.

“Why’re you following me?” Kacchan demands, whirling around to face Izuku. His palms spark, fingers twitching in an aborted attempt to form a fist. Izuku bites his lip—clearly his best friend is still upset. So is he, but he doesn’t want to spend recess alone again.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, Kacchan,” he mutters, looking down at the ground and scuffing his shoe lightly in the dirt. “I shouldn’t have yelled. Can we play Heroes vs Villains?”

Kacchan sniffs, face still screwed up, but his hands close into proper fists and stop sparking, so he counts it as a win. “Fine,” the blonde boy snaps, “but you’re the civilian, got it?”

Izuku’s shoulders slump. He doesn’t _want_ to be the civilian, but none of the other kids would play with him yesterday after his fight with Kacchan. Besides, Kacchan is his best friend, and he’s more important than some dumb game anyway. “Okay, fine. I’ll be the civilian.”

After school, his mom picks him up, just like always. She smiles, but her smile is different now—wobbly and thin, the same smile she uses after the times Dad calls and they fight (not that Mama knows he’s heard them—she always sends him out of the room, but sometimes Mama gets loud). He tries to smile back, but he can’t seem to.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks, running her fingers through his hair, face twisted with concern. She catches a couple knots, making him scrunch his face up, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Kacchan won’t let me play the hero in Heroes vs Villains anymore,” he mumbles. “I can’t even be the sidekick or the villain. He says I have to be the civilian now.”

Mama frowns in confusion. “Oh? What’s wrong with playing the civilian?”

“You don’t _play_ the civilian,” he explains, “you just _are_ one. He makes me sit under the tree outside and he won’t let me do anything. I can’t even run!”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Inko says cheerfully. She threads her fingers through his and squeezes gently. “That game can be so violent, and you don’t have a quirk…”

He pouts at her. “But I don’t want to just be the civilian,” he whines, feet dragging. “And I don’t need a quirk to play, I never needed one before—!”

“That was before everyone else got their quirks, baby,” she explains patiently. She looks down at him, catching his eye. “I know this is hard to understand right now, but you will later. Sometimes quirked people forget to hold back with the quirkless, especially with kids. So you have to be safe, do you understand? And sometimes that means you have to do things differently. Like play a different game, or stay inside.”

That’s dumb! “But—”

“Do you understand what I mean, baby?”

“But that’s silly!” he tries to argue. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and Inko stops next to him. She frowns at him.

“Midoriya Izuku,” she says sternly, frowning, “your safety is _never_ silly. Do you know how awful I would feel if you got hurt because you were playing too rough?”

He shrinks under her gaze and looks away. “Yes, Mama. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, baby, I forgive you.” She smiles and gives him a gentle tug, and they start back home again. “Let’s get home. I’ll make you katsudon tonight. How does that sound?”

He summons up the brightest smile he can. “That sounds good, Mama.”

The tension seems to leave his mom’s shoulders, and Izuku sighs quietly in relief. He hadn’t meant to upset her, so he’s glad everything is set straight. Mama is only worried he’ll get hurt, he tells himself firmly, and he should try to remember that in the future so they don’t fight again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is loooong. Seriously, I have several revised chapters already and this is by far the longest. Also, this chapter might be triggering for some readers, so drop to the end notes for a summary if you think this'll apply to you.
> 
> Content warning for:
> 
> -Treating quirklessness as an illness.  
> -Ableism by way of assuming a quirkless person cannot do the same things a quirked person can.
> 
> It's really only this blatant in this chapter, so I'm not sure if I should drop it in the tags or not? Comment with your thoughts on the subject.

Kacchan turns five years old and gets his starter Pokemon, a Charmander he names Flare. He brings it to school the next day, and even though they’re not supposed to have their Pokemon out, it stands on Kacchan’s desk, the tiny flame on its tale flickering happily.

“That’s so cool, Kacchan!” Izuku yells, marveling at the fire type. “He’s gonna help so much with your quirk!” He holds his hand close to Flare’s scaly skin, feeling the heat wafting off. “Just standing next to him is gonna help you produce more sweat to explode—”

“I _know_ , Izu, now shaddup!” Kacchan barks, scowling fiercely. Everyone’s looking at them—no, Izuku realizes, they’re all looking at _him_. He shrinks away—this is supposed to be Kacchan’s moment, and here he is, ruining it!

“Sorry, Kacchan,” he mumbles, shuffling away.

“Damn right.” Everyone swarms forward, chattering about how awesome Flare is and squealing in delight when the fire type coughs a tiny lick of flame over their heads. Izuku keeps back a bit so he doesn’t distract everyone again, but he doesn’t mind—he’s still as excited as the rest of them to see Flare.

It makes him wonder, though…when is _he_ going to get his own starter Pokemon?

Maybe for his birthday this summer, he decides. Fifth birthdays are typically when a kid gets one, or around then—it gives them plenty of time to bond and become friends before adding any other teammates to the dynamic when they’re older and get a provisional training license, and plenty of time to figure out how the Pokemon will work with their trainer’s quirk.

Well, that last is something Izuku won’t have to worry about at all. He brightens up, because that would actually be an advantage, wouldn’t it? He could have literally any starter!  
Research, he decides, will be needed. He needs to figure out what type of Pokemon he’ll need to become a hero.

* * *

There are so many options for starter Pokemon that Izuku doesn’t even know where to begin at first. He sits in front of his mom’s computer, staring at the cursor blinking in the browser’s search bar with his tongue bitten lightly between his teeth. What kind of Pokemon do heroes have, anyway?

This leads to Izuku pulling up the current Hero Rankings. He grabs his notebook from his room and a thin purple marker, and starts going through the top heroes one-by-one, starting with All Might.

Each team is remarkably balanced, even type specialists like Endeavor, and each one looks super cute or pretty or just plain _cool_. Fire types tend to be really popular—everyone in the Top Ten has at least one. Izuku writes down the names of each species that catches his eye, copying the kanji carefully so he doesn’t make any mistakes. He researches each one to find out their pre-evolutions (because he already knows Pokemon evolve and Top Ten heroes are going to have fully-evolved Pokemon). In the end, he manages to narrow the list of 800+ known Pokemon down to twenty potential starters. There are a lot of fire types, but he thinks most of them are safe—Growlithe tends to be pretty friendly, he’s pretty sure.

“Mama, Mama!” Izuku finds his mother at the dining room table, papers scattered around her and a small calculator next to her elbow. He brandishes his own paper until he gets her attention. “Mama, I made a list of starter Pokemon!”

“O-oh?” Inko looks up, her hair slightly frizzy rather than its normal smooth state. She looks back at her paper, marks something on another paper, and finally looks back at him, a wobbly smile on her lips. “That’s wonderful, honey! Why don’t you set that here, and I’ll have a look at it as soon as I’m done, alright?”

“Okay!” He sets it carefully on top of a stack of unopened envelopes, so it doesn’t get in the way of what she’s currently working on.

“Thank you, baby. Now why don’t you watch TV? Isn’t there a new All Might anime starting tonight?”

“Oh!” There is, and he completely forgot! He kisses his mom on the cheek, hugging her as tightly as he can manage, and darts away to the living room.

His mom doesn’t get back to him about the list that night, or the next, or the one after. It doesn’t bother him, though—she’s been so busy, she must have just forgot, he reasons. That makes sense; Dad’s not here to help her with all the household stuff, because he’s working over in the United States. He sends them money every month, but that means he can’t be here to help with chores and stuff.

But after a week of nothing, Izuku can’t help getting a little antsy. Especially after all the envelopes and papers disappear from the table, and she _still_ hasn’t said anything.

“Mama? Did you look at the list?” She’s making dinner—katsudon, his favorite!—and he’s standing at the edge of the kitchen, where he won’t accidentally get underfoot.

“What list, baby?” she says absently. She holds out her hand, using her quirk to pull the bowl of breading mix to her, then stops with a flinch. She looks sideways at him, like she’s waiting, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“The list of starter Pokemon I gave you,” he reminds her patiently. He ignores the flinch and look; she’s been doing that a lot lately, though he’s still not sure why.

“I don’t remember getting one…are you sure you gave me one, baby?” She finally looks away, focusing back on dinner.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Izuku insists. He did…didn’t he? Yes, yes he did, he remembers writing it in that purple marker. He never tears pages out of his notebook, but he tore that one out, and he remembers seeing the ragged edge of the missing page. “You were looking at grown-up papers, remember?”

“Was I? I must have been so distracted I forgot.” She frowns at the ingredients, but doesn’t look at him. “Oh, dear. I must have accidentally thrown it out with everything else, then.” She gives him a tight smile. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures her. Smile, smile, smile, he reminds himself. Smile like All Might—everything is fine! “I’ll make you a new one after dinner.” It would be a lot of work, but he could do it, it would be worth it!

“O-oh…thank you, baby, that’s really sweet.” She looks away.

“No problem, Mama!”

* * *

This time when he makes his list, he brings it to her when he’s absolutely sure Mama isn’t busy and bounces excitedly next to her until she takes it from him. She gives him a tired sigh as she reads it over.

“Baby, some of these Pokemon are really dangerous! I can’t get you these,” she says, shaking her head. “All these fire types? They could burn you, you could get really hurt! And I’m certainly not getting you a dark type.”

Izuku pouts back, because that’s most of his list, but…he brightens when she hands it back to him, because there’s still one left, even though she’s already turning back to the TV. “So, so does that mean I can have a Dratini?”

“Wha—?” She gives him a bewildered look, and he points to it, all the way at the bottom. “No, of course not! Izuku, baby, dragon types are expensive _and_ dangerous! I’m not getting you one.”

“But Mama—!”

“I said _no_ , Izuku.” She glares at him until he looks away. “You don’t even have a quirk to defend yourself with if your Pokemon gets out of control—what if you got hurt? I would be all alone then.”

He deflates, the paper held in both tiny fists. He doesn’t want his mom to be lonely, and he doesn’t want to get hurt—but that’s all the Pokemon on his list, so now what is he supposed to do?

Maybe he should make a new one, he decides. He goes back to his room, sets the paper on his bedside table so he knows which ones his mom has already rejected, then takes his notebook to the computer.

* * *

It doesn’t seem to matter what Pokemon he comes up with, though. They’re always too expensive, or too dangerous. First grade rolls around, and Izuku _still_ doesn’t have a starter, even though all his classmates already do.

Most of them got theirs when they turned five. It’s tradition, after all, even if their quirks are a bit later than everyone else’s and haven’t appeared yet.

The first day of school that year is a special kind of awful, Izuku decides. The teacher makes them play an introduction game—they have to stand up and tell the class their name, their quirk, and introduce their starter Pokemon. So when it’s Izuku’s turn, he has to tell everyone he doesn’t have a quirk or starter, and then has to stand there while everyone whispers and giggles until the teacher finally moves on to the next person. It makes his stomach feel tight and gross.

At recess, no one wants to play with him except Kacchan, and he has to be the civilian again while Kacchan and the others play Heroes vs Villains.

* * *

Even though Izuku hadn’t thought school could get worse, it happens.

They’re doing a group activity, making a poster for their favorite hero, and Izuku’s group all agreed on All Might—of course! Why wouldn’t they? All Might is awesome and the best and everyone knows it! It’s him, Kacchan, and a girl who sits next to Izuku—he doesn’t know her very well because she won’t talk to him, but he _does_ know she has a quirk that lets her use her hair kind of like tentacles, and if she twists a lock together she can pick things up pretty easily.

Izuku is drawing All Might on the poster while Kacchan cuts out articles from old magazines to glue on. The girl, Shokushu-chan, is supposed to decorate the edges of the poster, but she just sits there, hands in her lap and staring at the floor.

“Are you just gonna sit there all day, or are you gonna help?” Kacchan snaps after a while, somehow managing to glare at her out of one eye while also gluing an article onto the correct spot.

“…I can’t touch the markers,” she says softly. She still doesn’t look up.

“Why not?” the blonde boy scoffs. “It’s not like Izu’s gonna keep you from using them. Are ya, nerd?”

Izuku looks up from his drawing and frowns. “No. Here, Shokushu-chan.” He pushes the marker bin closer—maybe they were too far to reach? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hog them all.”

But she edges away, and when she looks up—just a little bit, just enough to see her eyes—she looks like she might cry. “I can’t touch them!”

Her raised voice brings the teacher over. “What’s going on? Shokushu-chan, what’s wrong?”

She sniffs. “Midoriya-kun’s trying to make me use the markers.”

“Okay…?” The teacher seems as confused as Izuku, who by this point has stopped drawing. “Do you not want markers? I think there’s another bin of colored pencils left, if you would prefer?”

But she shakes her head. “I can’t touch the poster either! My parents said I can’t touch anything Midoriya-kun has touched ‘cuz then I might become a quirkless too, and I don’t wanna lose my quirk!”

Izuku feels sick to his stomach. She really thought that? Her parents told her that?

The teacher coughs. “That won’t happen, Shokushu-chan. You can’t lose your quirk once you get it. And quirklessness…well, it isn’t that type of illness.” Izuku frowns. He’s pretty sure he isn’t sick…the doctor hadn’t said he was, and he doesn’t feel bad or anything. “It’s…it’s genetic, not like a cold.”

But the girl is crying now and still won’t touch anything, so the teacher eventually sighs and leads her to another group.

Later on, he tells his mom what happened when she picks him and Kacchan up (because Auntie Mitsuki had to run an errand, so Kacchan is spending time at their house until she’s done). “Am-am I sick, Mama?” he asks when he’s done, clutching her hand like a lifeline. “I don’t _feel_ sick…”

Inko’s face twists with discomfort. “Well, baby, it’s just…being a quirkless isn’t a sickness, but it does mean you can’t do the same things as everyone else. Sometimes people get that mixed up.”

“But I can still do the same stuff everyone else does,” Izuku protests, pouting. “I can still play, I can still go to school, I can still be a hero…nothing’s changed!”

Kacchan scoffs. “You can’t be a hero without a quirk! You’d just end up getting hurt.”

“You can get hurt even if you have a quirk,” he points out. “And I can still save people.”

“Honey, the risk of you getting hurt is a lot higher than for other people,” his mom reminds him. “And quite frankly I don’t want you to get hurt at all!”

“I don’t wanna get hurt either.” Izuku frowns at the sidewalk, then brightens. “Besides, my Pokemon team will help! I’ll have the bestest team ever, and we’ll save lots of people, and I bet I won’t get hurt at all.”

Inko just sighs. “Izuku, you’re going to give me a heart attack, talking like that…”

“Sorry, Mama…”

“Yeah, Izu, stop making Auntie worry so much!”

“Right…” He didn’t mean to, but he had anyway…maybe he could help clean some things up when they got home, to make it up to her?

* * *

Before Izuku knows it, it’s summer break. Of course he and Kacchan spend it playing in the park under the watchful eye of Bakugou Masaru, Kacchan’s dad, while Inko and Mitsuki are at work. Their other two friends aren’t there, so they wind up playing in the sandbox instead.

Izuku packs his little blue plastic bucket full of sand and flips it over, trying to create a tower, but all it does is crumble and fall. Why isn’t this working? It always does at the beach, although the sand at the beach is usually a bit wet…maybe that’s it? He needs water? There’s a water fountain nearby, but he’s not sure he can reach it on his own. Maybe Uncle Masaru will help?

But before he can get up and ask, Kacchan snatches his bucket away. He holds it up out of Izuku’s reach, smirking widely. “Hey, guess what I learned?” He points to Izuku’s name, written in black permanent marker and protected by tape. “Did ya know your name can be read as Deku instead of Izuku?” The green-haired boy shakes his head. Kacchan’s smirk widens. “Know what else Deku can mean? Useless!”

He blinks back tears, his chest suddenly feeling tight. “Kacchan, that’s so mean! I’m not useless!”

“Of course you are.” The blonde seems a bit uncomfortable for a minute, but then seems to brush it aside. “You don’t have a quirk, so you’d be a pretty useless hero.”

* * *

Kacchan’s new nickname spreads like wildfire once school starts up again. Not because Kacchan really tries to tell people—it’s their other two friends who tell everyone. Kacchan makes a crack about Deku being Izuku’s “hero name” during one of their games, finally allowing Izuku to be the hero…while facing all three of them as villains.

“You’re right, he really _is_ a Deku!” Tsubasa-kun laughs, whacking him with his wings.

After _that_ particular game, he goes home covered in bruises. His mom complains to the school, and he spends recess for the rest of the year inside with his teacher, which to the rest of the class reinforces how “useless” he is.

“Do whatever you like,” the teacher tells him. “You can draw or read or whatever…just stay inside the classroom.”

Izuku spends those recesses bored out of his seven-year-old mind, at first. He draws random pictures of things in the classroom, most of which are “accidentally” destroyed by classmates.

This lasts until, one day, he finally runs out of things to draw and read and ends up drawing All Might and his team of Pokemon, and writing down everything he can remember. Heroes are his favorite subject and he’s pretty sure they can never be boring, so he’s certain this’ll keep him from being bored now.

When he’s done, he hides it in his desk. It’s easily his best drawing _ever_ and he doesn’t want to lose it.

* * *

Over the course of the school year, it’s like all his classmates forget his name. He is no longer Izuku to them, no longer Midoriya-kun.

Deku.

Deku.

Deku.

“Well, it fits,” one boy laughs. His quirk changes his eye color to match his mood, like some kind of human mood ring, and right now it’s a poisonous purple. “You don’t have a Pokemon or a quirk, so you really are useless!”

“I’m not useless,” Izuku says, pouting at his desk. The boy ignores him. “And I _don’t_ like that name.”

“Aw, is Deku crying again?”

“’Course he is, he’s always crying about something!”

“I’m not a Deku,” he snaps, louder this time. “And I don’t like that name.”

“Crybaby Deku!”

“Too stupid to realize he _is_ a Deku!”

“I don’t liKE THAT NAME!”

Everyone stops, then, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. The teacher looks up from her desk with a frown. She’s mostly been ignoring them while she finishes grading a stack of papers—class hasn’t quite started yet for the day.

“Midoriya-kun, that’s enough,” she scolds, setting her red pen down. “You shouldn’t yell at your classmates like that. It’s just a nickname.”

“But—”

“Don’t talk back, or I’ll have to call your mother.”

He doesn’t want them to call his mother—she works so hard and can’t afford any distractions. He ducks his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Second grade, when it inevitably arrives, is actually worse. Izuku resolves to stop telling himself things _can’t_ get worse, because they inevitably do, and it makes it hard to keep smiling like a hero should.

At first he thinks things will be better, because Kacchan is in his class again, and that’s a good thing. And even better, he’s allowed to play outside again, and Kacchan has graciously decided he’s allowed to actually participate in Heroes vs Villains instead of just sitting under the tree at recess.

Izuku gets to be the villain, while Kacchan is the hero and Tsubasa-kun and Kakuchou-kun get to be sidekicks. He doesn’t mind, though, because he at least gets to run around and _actually_ play!

Except they use their quirks when they play. It isn’t too big a deal, really—Tsubasa-kun can fly, and that doesn’t hurt anything, and Kakuchou-kun can extend his fingers, but can’t seem to do much more than poke Izuku.

But Kacchan’s explosions actually manage to do a bit of damage. Not much, of course. It singes his clothes and leaves red marks on his skin, and it stings a little bit initially, but the pain and marks go away by the end of the day.

The singed clothes get him in trouble with Mama, though.

“Izuku, what have you been doing?” She roughly brushes at the soot, and one burned patch of cloth falls away entirely, leaving a hole. “I can’t afford to keep replacing your clothes every time you’re careless.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” He looks at the ground, at his bright red shoes—the only ones that fit the shape of his foot. He tried to find others—he had really wanted a pair of light-up All Might ones—but they were all too narrow at the toe and squeezed his feet uncomfortably tight. “I didn’t mean to, but I was playing with Kacchan and I didn’t dodge fast enough.”

She frowns at him. “What do you mean by that, baby?”

“Um, Kacchan used his quirk. I was supposed to dodge, but I wasn’t fast enough.” His mother’s face pinches, and Izuku shrinks. Kacchan isn’t in trouble, is he? He hadn’t meant to get his friend in trouble…

“Well, I’m sure it was just an accident,” Inko says eventually. “Katsuki is still learning to control his quirk…just be patient while he learns, okay baby? And I’ll talk to the teacher. Really, she shouldn’t be letting you play outside unsupervised anyway…”

Izuku is pretty sure it hadn’t been an accident, but they were only playing, so it isn’t a big deal. So he nods his head and lets his mom lead him home.

* * *

His mom talks to the teacher, and once again Izuku is stuck inside during recess. And now his classmates think he’s so useless he can’t even play outside like a regular kid.

So he sits at his desk, pouting, with nothing to do. His teacher this year doesn’t give him anything to draw with, just tells him to work on his homework, which he finishes pretty quickly because it’s _easy_.

So he winds up taking out a notebook—still blank and new—and sketches Kacchan. After a bit of thought, he sketches his friend in a hero costume, because of _course_ Kacchan will become a hero, with Flare standing next to him. It reminds him of the papers he did last year, the ones where he drew the heroes and their teams and wrote down what he remembered about their quirks. So he writes down stuff about Kacchan’s quirk.

If Kacchan’s going to be a hero, he decides, then he needs a hero paper, too. It only makes sense.

* * *

“Mama, I have another list.” Izuku sets it on the coffee table, then climbs up onto the couch next to her. It doesn’t really matter, at this point; he’s pretty sure she’s going to say no. Again.

But it’s the last list he can think of. All the Pokemon on it are…well, not very popular for _anybody_ , let alone a hero-to-be, even if they end up powerful in the end. Magikarp. Sunkern. Other Pokemon generally held to be weak and nonthreatening by most of society. If this doesn’t work, nothing will. And _then_ he’ll have to figure out how to be a hero without a quirk _or_ a Pokemon team.

Inko picks up the paper and looks it over. He expects her to put it down, with another variation of “No, too dangerous,” but she doesn’t. Instead she pauses, reads it over again, and hums.

“These are…pretty reasonable. Some of them might be a bit dangerous, but most of them aren’t.” She gives him a suspicious look. “These wouldn’t exactly work for a hero, Izuku…so why would you want one?”

He wants to tell her she’s wrong about that—All Might said in an interview that _any_ Pokemon could be useful for a hero. But if he says that, she’ll probably say no…he bites his lip. He doesn’t want to lie to her, he’s _never_ lied to her…but maybe he can just not say that…? That wouldn’t be lying, would it?

“Well,” he says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “since I have to stay inside for recess, I thought if I had a Pokemon with me I wouldn’t be so lonely…”

…and, well, that _is_ true, so he isn’t lying to her.

She looks over the list again, then back at him. She has a pinched look on her face, like she doesn’t quite know what to say or how to react. Eventually, though, she just sighs.  
“I’ll have to look these over, baby. That’s not a yes,” she says hurriedly, seeing Izuku’s wide, hopeful eyes. “It _isn’t_. But these seem more reasonable than your other suggestions, so I’ll think about it. Okay?”

“Okay!” He bounces in place on the couch, a wide smile stretched across his face, sunshine-bright.

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t have to fake it.

* * *

His eighth birthday is life-changing. It is, in sharp contrast to the rest of the year, the most amazing day of his life so far, but it’s also the most decisive. Even years later, when other, objectively-speaking equally amazing things are happening, he’ll be able to point back to this day as the one that started everything. Because if it hadn’t happened, he never would have gotten to where he needed to be.

He wakes up that day to the smell of a warm breakfast being cooked—something his mom is only able to do for special occasions now, because of how hard she has to work, and his birthday is always one of them. He pushes his All Might bedspread aside and goes to find his mom.

The morning is spent with him and his mom watching an All Might movie and playing a board game until his party is supposed to start. At two o’ clock in the afternoon, an hour after everyone is supposed to have been there, Izuku finally admits that no one is coming. He invited his whole class, of course—it’s only fair—but no one came to celebrate, not even Kacchan. Which isn’t entirely surprising, but he had hoped his best friend would have made the time to at least stop by for a few minutes.

So it’s just him and his mom when she finally brings out the cake. It’s a single layer covered in blue frosting, with _Happy Birthday, Izuku!_ written in white, red, and yellow icing. There’s a single candle, a big eight made out of white and blue wax. His mom takes his picture before he blows the candle out.

Then she gives him his presents. He only has two, this year—the first is a large box wrapped in All Might wrapping paper. He rips it open and gasps in delight, revealing a set of figurines for the current Top Five heroes. He can’t wait to show Kacchan!

The second is a small wooden box that’s been painted dark green, with the kanji for his name painted on the top in yellow. He runs his fingers experimentally over it before flipping the top open. The inside is lined with black foam, with a slot cut out of the middle.

There’s a shrunken PokeBall there. Nothing fancy, just a plain-old, standard red and white one.

He loves it anyway.

Izuku takes a shuddering breath, eyes already swimming with happy tears. He picks it up and clicks the button in the center to enlarge it. The top turns clear, revealing a curled, segmented form. He can’t tell what it is, can’t see its face, and the top obscures the colors, but it doesn’t matter.

No matter what it is, he has a Pokemon now.

“C-come on out!”

A bright white flash of light nearly blinds him, but once he’s cleared the spots from his vision, he can see his new companion. It’s just over a foot tall, with a segmented blue and yellow body, and white eyes that look strangely like glasses. Clearly a bug type, he can see that much, but he doesn’t recognize the species. Not that it matters, because Izuku would love it anyway (even if bug types are a little scary), but still. He knows every single Pokemon native to Japan (or at least most of them), and if he doesn’t know this one that means it must be foreign, and those are _expensive_ , even if it’s a common species, whether it was imported specifically for him or bought from a breeder who specializes in foreign Pokemon.

His mom loves him so much she got him a _foreign Pokemon_.

Tears streak down his face in mini waterfalls as he grabs her around the waist. “T-t-tha-ank you, M-Mama!”

She squeezes him tightly back. “You’re welcome, baby. What do you want to name him?”

He sniffles and screws his face up, trying to think. “I-I don’t know. Wh-what kind of P-Pokemon is h-he?”

“He’s a species called Blipbug,” she says gently. “They’re bug types and they’re pretty smart.”

“Um…I’ll n-name him…” He sniffs and wipes the tears off his face. “H-how about Bl-Blippy?” The tiny bug squeaks in what he assumes to be agreement, and he gives the small Pokemon a watery smile. “A-awes-some! We’re g-gonna be h-heroes together, B-Blippy. Okay?”

Blippy squeaks and straightens up, quivering in what Izuku assumes to be excitement. He ignores his mom’s exasperated sigh and opts to hug his new Pokemon—his new _friend_ —and let’s his mom take a picture of them together, even though he’s still crying a little. It doesn’t matter.

However slim the chance, however stacked against him the odds, he’s going to be a hero. And he’ll have Blippy there to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:
> 
> Basically, Inko's overproctectiveness is starting to pick up more in this chapter. She decides Izuku can't do the same things other kids can do, purely because Izuku lacks a quirk, and actively asks his teachers to make sure he's supervised while playing so he doesn't get hurt, which leads to him not being allowed out for recess at all. There's also a section where a little girl in Izuku's kindergarten class is afraid of becoming quirkless because her parents told her it was contagious. Bakugou gives Izuku the nickname Deku (which spreads very quickly), and designates Izuku as the villain of their games, where he and his friends use their quirks. 
> 
> Throughout the chapter, Izuku tries to insist he's no different than any other kid (which mostly is true--he doesn't have a quirk, but he's no less capable), but is ignored. Inko tries to avoid getting him a starter, but eventually relents on his eighth birthday, getting him a Blipbug that Izuku names Blippy.
> 
> Names (courtesy of Google Translate):  
> -Shokushu Kami (Shokushu-chan), the little girl with the tentacle hair quirk. The kanji used is literally "tentacle hair."  
> -Kakuchou Yubi (Kakuchou-kun), the boy with the extendable fingers. He appeared in the first chapter, too, but I forgot to put this down ^_^:: The kanji used is "extended finger."
> 
> Also:
> 
> Teacher: You can't lose your quirk once you get it.  
> AFO: You called?


	3. Chapter 3

The odds of Izuku becoming a hero are stacked against him, this he knows. He has known it from the very beginning.

Heroes are supposed to have flashy quirks and a flashy, strong team of Pokemon to help them fight bad guys, and Izuku doesn’t have a quirk at all. And, well…Blippy, as he’s discovering, isn’t really a flashy Pokemon.

He doesn’t care about that, because he loves Blippy anyway, but it’s a little more than that. Blippy is a bug type, and most heroes in the Top 100 don’t use bug types unless their quirk relates to insects somehow. They’re considered too weak, and most of the fully evolved forms aren’t very family-friendly, or tend to be more scary-looking than cool, which is important to the popularity part of the rankings. And Blipbug in particular is a very weak species. There is literally only one species weaker, and one other that has the same average stat total—Wishiwashi is the weaker one, a water type fish Pokemon that normally travels in large schools and that Izuku is convinced his mom only didn’t get because she didn’t want to deal with setting up and maintaining a tank; while the one with the same average strength is Sunkern, which he thinks she didn’t get because it actually has better all around stats for battling and she doesn’t want to encourage that.

He huffs quietly and reorders his thoughts.

So Blippy is weaker than most. But his final evolution is Orbeetle, and is actually pretty darn good. It’s just a matter of training him that far. He chews absently on his thumb nail as he scrolls through the Bulbapedia page for Blipbug.

Unless Blippy was bred to have an egg move—something he knows his mom would never pay for—the only move he knows is Struggle Bug. When he evolves he’ll learn three more moves all at once, but nothing after that, and it’ll take time to master them. And Izuku knows it’ll be an uphill battle just getting Blippy to evolve into Dottler, his second stage.  
  
Doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, looking around the desk for a pen and a piece of paper. Mama always told him there aren’t any shortcuts in life—anything worth doing is going to be hard. They don’t have a printer, so he carefully writes down the level Blippy will evolve—level ten, however _that’s_ calculated—as well as the current move Blippy should know and what he’ll learn when he evolves. He doesn’t have a phone or a Pokedex he can use to reference the page while he’s out training, so he’ll just have to carry the paper with him until he has one.

But how should he go about training? He sits back in the chair. He _could_ ask Kacchan—he knows his friend would never turn down a battle and has been taking every opportunity to train Flare, his Charmander—but he knows how strong Flare and Kacchan are, and Blippy will lose. And even though he knows there’s no shame in losing a battle—everyone does once in a while, after all, even All Might! And All Might always says you can learn from those losses—he doesn’t think repeated losses would be very good for Blippy’s confidence, even leaving aside the physical damage that would be done to him.

Maybe some of the wild Pokemon in the park will help them if he asks nicely? They’re usually pretty friendly, as long as you don’t hurt them.

He nods his head sharply, then carefully folds his paper and tucks it into his pocket. He’s sure they’ll help. There’s lots of bug and grass types at the park, and he’s sure they’ll be willing to help Blippy get stronger.

Blippy is sleeping on his bed when he gets back to his room, curled up on Izuku’s pillow, so he gently shakes his new friend awake. “Blippy,” he whispers loudly, “come on, let’s go to the park.”

The bug uncurls and stretches, then hops to the floor to follow him. At the front door, Izuku slides his shoes on and yells, “We’re going to the park, Mama! We’ll be back later!”  
  
Inko peeks around the edge of the kitchen. “Oh! Going to play with Katsuki?”

Izuku shrugs. “I don’t know if he’s gonna be there or not,” he confesses, “but me an’ Blippy have to catch up to him if we’re gonna be heroes, and Kacchan and Flare are already so _strong_ , Mama!”

She purses her lips and steps fully out of the kitchen, hands propped on her hips. “Izuku, baby, what do you mean by ‘catch up’? You’re not going to the park to train, are you?”  
“Yep!” he says cheerfully. Next to him, Blippy gives a little hop. “We’re gonna train really hard and be the best heroes ever!”

“Izuku, you can’t be a trainer or a hero without a quirk,” Inko says patiently. “You could get really hurt! Now, why don’t you stay home today?”

“But—” he tries to protest.

“No buts,” his mom says firmly. “Now, if you want to you can watch TV for a while, and if I can get caught up on all my paperwork I’ll take you and Blippy to the park this afternoon. Alright?”

His shoulders slump. “Alright.”

“Good!” she says with a small clap, face lighting up. “Now, I’m going to finish making lunch.” She returns to the kitchen, humming happily. Izuku sighs quietly and kicks his shoes back off, then leads Blippy over to the couch, struggling not to cry. Again.

He hates that she doesn’t think he can do it. He understands that she’s worried he’ll get hurt, that she only wants him to be safe, but he wants to be a hero! It’s been his dream for forever. Sure, he doesn’t have a quirk, but he’s thought about it, and he doesn’t think he’s any different from Meo-chan in that respect. _Her_ quirk merely lets her change her eye color to whatever she wants. It would be fantastic for information gathering and infiltration and she would probably be super good at that because eye color is one of those things people tend to notice. She talks about being a hero all the time, and no one ever really tells _her_ she can’t.

At least, the teachers don’t. Kacchan and some of the meaner kids make fun of her for having a weak quirk and are adamant she can’t be more than a sidekick (which Izuku doesn’t believe), but most of the teachers and several of their classmates at least encourage her to try.

Point being, her quirk wouldn’t really help her in a fight, either, but people still believe she can do it.

So why is Izuku different?

* * *

At some point, Izuku overhears his mom on the phone, talking to Bakugou Mitsuki, Kacchan’s mother. Her voice is a low, almost soothing murmur, but he catches that she wants Kacchan to look out for him while he’s at school—keep him from getting hurt or into trouble, and to make sure he isn’t training Blippy during recess.

Izuku has no idea if Kacchan agreed or not. He’s pretty sure the blonde boy did, because he adores Inko (Izuku knows this because his best friend swears less and almost doesn’t yell at all when he talks to her), but it doesn’t change anything at school, especially since he still has to spend his recesses and lunch breaks in the classroom.

But around that time, Inko also takes on more at work as the law firm she works for picks up more high-profile cases. This means she works later and sometimes gets called in on her days off.

Izuku quickly learns that if he wants to get _any_ training done with Blippy, he’s going to have to…well, not lie. He never lies to his mother. But he can’t tell her what he’s going to do (and that’s not technically a lie, right? Right, of course). But with the new workload, he now has about an hour after school unsupervised, where he can go to the park and train without anyone being the wiser for it.

* * *

Blippy is pretty quick, and surprisingly sturdy against special attacks, but most of the Pokemon in the park use some form of physical attack, and Blippy’s not nearly as good at defending against those. So it takes a while for them to manage a win—it doesn’t happen until the last day before the start of winter break.

It’s cold; snow covers the ground. Inko is working late again, something that’s been happening more and more often. Kacchan and Flare walk them home after school, something Izuku’s mom recently requested when it became apparent her working situation would not be a temporary thing, and convinced Izuku needs someone to make sure he doesn’t get lost. Izuku and Blippy go inside and listen as their friends stomp away again, then wait another few minutes to make sure they’re really gone and not loitering by the stairs.

Then Izuku sets his backpack on the couch, switches his All Might jacket for an over-sized black sweatshirt with Present Mic’s Put Your Hands Up! Radio logo, and he and Blippy go straight back out so they can go to the park, with Blippy curled around his shoulders for warmth and the hood pulled up over Izuku’s head.

The park is nearly empty when they arrive. The only other person—a purple-haired kid who barely looks at Izuku before flushing and looking away again—all but runs when they pass each other.

He crunches his way through the churned, greyish snow to make his way into the wooded area near the back, where the trees are thick enough he won’t be recognized. The bare, twisted branches and scarred trunks make them look like a forest of charred skeletons. He carries the paper he wrote about Blippy’s species tucked into his pants pocket, even though he memorized it a month and a half ago—there’s a certain comfort in having it, even though he technically doesn’t need it anymore. He heads straight to a familiar clearing near the now-dry creek—he and his friends used to play there, before he was diagnosed as quirkless, so he knows it has the privacy they need.

The snow here is a thick, compacted sheet of ice from being repeatedly walked on and rolled over, and is more brown than white from the dirt that’s been mixed in from Izuku and Blippy’s battles. It’s surrounded by skeletal trees and tangles of sticks and stems that are all that’s left of the bushes that grow between them, with only a couple gaps that allow for an easy-ish entrance or exit. At least, for a kid Izuku’s size; his sweatshirt catches on the branches and sticks, not enough to tear, but it’s been more and more difficult to make it through as he’s gotten bigger.

The only other splash of color, aside from Izuku and Blippy, is a bright green and yellow caterpillar with red antenna resting on a damp tree root. It lifts itself up and turns to them, head tilted cutely, staring at them with large, round black eyes.

“Hey, Caterpie!” Izuku calls out, waving cheerfully. Blippy pokes his head out of the hood, adding his own squeaky greeting. The other bug type chirps back. “Wanna battle?”

The nice thing about these battles, Izuku reflects, is that the wild Pokemon will stop before either they or Blippy can be seriously hurt. The most either Blippy or their opponent ever get is a few bruises, maybe a shallow scratch or two, easily passed off as a result of playing with his friends.

The Caterpie squeaks at them and crawls slowly onto the snow-covered makeshift battlefield. Izuku sets Blippy carefully onto the ground and lets him inch his way forward. At first the two bug types do nothing but stare at each other, completely unmoving.

Most trainers would rush to give their Pokemon a command. Izuku used to, influenced by the battles he saw between his classmates and the new trainers that hung around the city. But something he noticed recently about pro heroes is that they rarely ever do that—they trust their Pokemon to fight on their own, for the most part, only rarely giving commands. And after weeks of sneaking off to train—and helped by the fact Blippy only knows one attack anyway—Izuku had decided he should do the same.

Today, Caterpie makes the first move, using String Shot to try to wrap Blippy up. Blippy hops out of the way and responds with the only thing he can—Struggle Bug.

“Good job!” Izuku cheers, punching the air as his partner’s attack hits. Caterpie is bowled over, but flips expertly back onto its four suction-cup feet and responds with another String Shot.

It’s not a very exciting battle, admittedly. Caterpie mainly sticks to String Shot, which Izuku _thinks_ is to slow Blippy down, because Blippy keeps dodging everything, including the few attempts at Tackle. Caterpie dodges the majority of Blippy’s attacks, too, dragging the battle out far longer than Izuku wanted. But eventually, one last Struggle Bug connects, rolling Caterpie over, and instead of resuming the fight, the other bug type squeaks and backs away, conceding the battle.

For the first time since Izuku and Blippy started training.

It takes a minute for that to register, but once it does, Izuku lets out a whoop so loud it echoes through the trees. He runs over to Blippy and scoops him up, hugging him tight while tears streak down his face.

“Good job, Blippy, you were amazing!” Blippy squeaks happily back, and Izuku drops down to the ground so he’s on a more even level with Caterpie. “And so were you! Thanks so much for helping us.”

The Caterpie nods and chirps, then inches its way back to its tree. Izuku watches it crawl up the side and into a hollow, where it disappears, presumably to sleep. Then he checks Blippy over, running one hand carefully over the Blipbug’s back and sides, checking for any injuries. Thankfully there aren’t any, so he sets his friend back on his shoulder.

“Ready to go back home?” Blippy squeaks. “Alright, let’s go! If we hurry we’ll beat Mama back.” He tucks his friend back into his sweatshirt and makes sure his hood covers his hair before they leave.

They pass Kacchan on the way home, but the blonde boy doesn’t give Izuku a second glance. At home, Izuku quickly runs through his chores and sets his homework up at the dining room table, so Mama will think that’s what he’s been doing all afternoon. Then he pulls out Blippy’s paper and scribbles the date and result of the battle, grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt.

He wants to remember this day forever.

* * *

Winter is almost over, along with the school year, when Izuku’s careful facade comes crashing down.

He accidentally leaves Blippy’s paper in his pants pocket one day. He carries it with him everywhere, carefully folded into eighths and tucked away out of sight, so he can take it out and read it—it’s become a sort of nervous habit, and now the creases are so worn they’re almost disintegrated in some spots. And he adds to it, occasionally—every one of Blippy’s wins are listed, along with quick descriptions of the battles, like where in the park they took place and against which species. Inko finds it while doing the laundry.

Izuku is in his room, door partially ajar, while he packs his backpack for school tomorrow. All his homework is done—he double-checked the assignments that were due, and double-checked all his answers—so he just needs to get it turned in without one of his classmates ruining it. Blippy is resting on his bed, quietly watching the process.

Then his door creaks the rest of the way open, and he looks up. His mom stands there, a familiar paper hanging limply from her trembling fingers. She holds it up.

“What is this?” she asks quietly, voice shaking slightly.

Izuku freezes and shrinks down slightly when he sees it, sees _her_. She’s never this quiet unless she’s really mad. “Um…”

She holds the paper up and begins reading, voice mocking. “‘Blippy won his first battle today against Caterpie!’ ‘Blippy won against a Burmy near the sand pit!’” She glares him. “Have you been trying to train your Pokemon?”

“N-no!” he tries to say, but he’s always been a terrible liar when he’s directly asked a question. His vision blurs, and he blinks rapidly to clear it. “I, um—”

“Don’t lie to me, Izuku,” she says warningly, crossing her arms and tapping one foot impatiently against the ground. The paper crumples in her grip. “Do you know how hurt you could have been? How hurt Blippy could have been?”

“We were careful,” Izuku says weakly.

“Pokemon battles are dangerous,” she continues, ignoring him completely. “Blippy isn’t very strong, and you don’t even have a quirk to protect you with! Do you know how much I worry about you? And you go and do this to me!” She shakes her head, lips pursed. “Why don’t you seem to understand this?”

“We have to train if we’re gonna be heroes, Mama!” he tries to argue.

“You cannot be a hero without a quirk, Izuku. It’s too dangerous for you!” Tears fall steadily down Izuku’s face at the blunt words, his shoulders shaking softly. She sighs. “Where’s Blippy’s Pokeball?” He sniffs and pulls it out of his jacket pocket—he carries it with him everywhere, even though he hasn’t used it since he first got his friend. “Give it to me,” she orders, holding out a hand demandingly. He whines, but she just flexes her hand, using her quirk to pull it to her. She returns Blippy to it, shrinks it down, and tucks it into a pocket. Then she takes a deep breath and holds the paper up again, grasping it with both hands. “I’m sorry,” she says, “but this is for your own good.”

She rips it apart.

* * *

It’s the first and only time Izuku has gotten caught and lost Blippy. His mom keeps his Pokemon friend for a month, only letting him out to feed him when she feeds her own partner, a Chimecho named Bell. During that time, Izuku is forced to follow Kacchan home, because Kacchan’s father, Bakugou Masaru, is a fashion designer who works from home, and he texts Inko to let her know when Izuku arrives.

She shredded Blippy’s paper, but Izuku retrieves the pieces from the trash the same night and hides them until he can get to school the next day. There, he carefully tapes them together, then tapes it onto the first page of an unused, unlabeled notebook.

He’s very careful to never leave this notebook where his mom can find it. It stays in his backpack unless he’s using it, and when his mom gets home he makes sure to hide it in the slim gap between his dresser and the wall.

His mom takes to checking his backpack and making him turn out his pockets, just to make sure he isn’t hiding anything. She goes through his room at random, searching his dresser drawers, and under his bed, even between the mattress and bed frame. She never finds anything else.

At the end of the month, once he has Blippy back in his hands and is allowed to stay home alone again, he vows to never let that happen again.

He makes sure to spend at least a few minutes every day staring into the mirror, practicing saying “No, Mama, I’m not training Blippy” until he stops flinching and his face stays the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> -Meo-chan: Full name is Meo Henkou, or "changing eye."


	4. Chapter 4

Third grade starts, and Izuku is once again free from having to sit inside during his breaks. For the time being, anyway.

He celebrates his newly-recovered freedom by eating with Blippy under the tree in the field, far away from everyone else’s games. He has a simple lunch for both of them that he made this morning—Mama had warned him the week before that he would have to pack his own lunches from now on, because she had to go to work early in the mornings, now, too. The day is warm, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of sakura blossoms.

But their bliss doesn’t last longer than a week before Kacchan and his friends start cornering the two of them during lunch. Izuku’s bento box becomes a casualty of Kacchan’s quirk, and the contents regularly end up in the grass before he can eat it. It makes focusing on class in the afternoon difficult, and the teachers scold him for his fidgeting and lack of interest.

After a few weeks of this, Izuku finally tells his new teacher why. “I’m sorry, Sensei,” he mutters, staring down at the floor. “It’s just hard to concentrate when I’m hungry. I’ll do better…”

The teacher rolls his eyes. “And why didn’t you eat at lunch?”

“Um…” He doesn’t want to get Kacchan in trouble, so what should he say? “I…my lunch keeps getting knocked over?”

“Is that a question?”

“No, Sensei. It keeps getting knocked over.” He keeps his voice steady and firm this time.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you aren’t just spilling it?” The teacher clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I shouldn’t be surprised if you are, you’re always so clumsy…”

Izuku shrinks slightly. “I’m sorry…”

“Any more of this nonsense and you’ll have detention. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

After that, Izuku isn’t just clumsy.

Some of his classmates, and even a few older kids, find Izuku during lunch or after school to give him new bruises. Most of the time they’re covered by his clothes, but if his teacher notices them, Izuku is scolded for playing rough when it’s dangerous for him to do that.

“But I didn’t,” he tries to tell the man. “There were some kids—”

The teacher frowns. “Who?” Izuku gives him names for the ones he recognizes and descriptions of anyone he doesn’t. The teacher’s frown deepens. “And what did you do, for them to do that?”

“Nothing—!”

“Well, you must have. I know these kids, they won’t do something like that without being provoked. Stop making so much trouble, Midoriya-kun.”

“But—”

“Now, that’s enough,” the teacher says firmly. “If you keep antagonizing the other students, I’ll have to call your mother and you’ll have detention.”

Kacchan just laughs when he hears about it—and pops a couple small explosions against Izuku’s arm. It isn’t too bad, but it turns red and blisters and it’s noticeable, so he’s sent to the nurse’s office.

She frowns at him. “Midoriya-kun, what happened?”

“Kacchan used his quirk,” he whispers, head bowed.

“Oh, dear.” She dabs on burn cream and bandages it. “Make sure when you wash your hands you keep that from getting wet, alright?” Izuku nods. “Alright, now wait here a moment while I go speak to the principal.”

The principal drags Izuku and Kacchan into the office after that, and asks them what happened. Izuku repeats what he told the nurse.

“It was an accident, stupid Deku!” Kacchan snaps, tiny pops coming from his palms.

The principal nods. “I’m sure it was,” he tells the blonde boy soothingly. Then he turns to Izuku. “You need to stop being so sensitive to these things, Midoriya-kun. Accidents happen, especially with powerful quirks like Bakugou-kun’s.”

So now Izuku is an overly-sensitive troublemaker on top of being a clumsy deku.

* * *

The only safe place in the entire school is the library. Not because the librarian is necessarily kinder to Izuku, but because the other kids make too much noise while chasing him, so she kicks them out.

With that discovery made, and knowing his teachers are going to be zero help, Izuku begins spending recess and lunch there. He and Blippy wolf their food down as quickly as they can in the classroom, then head straight to the quiet sanctuary in the center of the school.

Of course, it leaves him with a lot of free time, and Izuku is limited on the books he can read without a note from his mom. Most of them are too easy for him anyway.  
So he spends the time on the computer, researching. None of the teachers seem to mind.

First he gets more information on Dottler and Orbeetle, knowing he’ll need it eventually. At first he writes it on a piece of scratch paper, then transfers it into his notebook later—but he quickly realizes that’s extra work and there’s a chance he’ll get caught, so he starts bringing his notebook with him. Then he goes back over the heroes and their teams in the Top Ten, just to keep from getting bored; he finds videos online of their fights with various villains and writes down everything he can think of.

He writes about their quirks, how the heroes normally use them and how the villain used theirs, and possible ways they could be used differently. He writes about how the heroes act and what Pokemon they use. He writes down what moves their teams use and, if the hero lost, different ways they might have been able to win.

His notebook remains unlabeled, just in case someone notices it—hopefully they’ll think it’s just homework or class notes. There isn’t much to show for it at first—the first few times he does this, he barely scrapes together a page for each fight. But he keeps going until he’s able to get a whole two pages just on the hero he’s watching, plus half a page per Pokemon they use.

Then he starts expanding out, looking for heroes in the Top Fifty, official trainer matches, gym battles, Elite Four challenges, and even watching video clips of the annual Grand Conference. He quickly realizes trainer battles are a lot less showy than hero fights. More efficient. He takes the things he notices in the trainer fights and applies them to villain battles, seeing ways they could have ended the conflict faster, with fewer injuries and less property damage.

* * *

As the year wears on, Izuku’s teacher calls on him less and less, until finally he stops altogether. Even if Izuku’s hand is the only one raised, the teacher acts like he doesn’t see it. Any time he says anything, he’s interrupted. Which had been happening before, but now it’s increased.

It’s annoying, but he just keeps smiling anyway, because that’s what a hero does.

* * *

Summer arrives with a wave of withering heat and enough humidity to make Izuku feel like he’s breathing water. The classrooms and library are filled with fans to keep air moving, but it doesn’t do very much.

The heat, in turn, makes everyone a little haywire. Most of his classmates are at least a little crankier than normal, and Izuku himself is a little more miserable. The only one besides the teachers who seems to be taking it in stride is Kacchan—the heat actually helps his quirk, and in turn seems to boost Kacchan’s confidence. Not that he needs a boost there, Izuku thinks sourly.

“Pfft! You’ll never be a hero, just look at how pathetic you are.” It’s lunch time, and Kacchan and his gang caught up to him just down the hall from the library. Kacchan grabs his shirt, palms sparking and singing the fabric; a few embers sting his shoulder. “How are you gonna be a hero if you can’t even fight back? No quirk, a stupid Pokemon, and can’t even throw a punch!”

He wants to cry, but he can’t. If he cries, he’s proving Kacchan right. And Kacchan’s wrong, he isn’t pathetic—he’s going to be a hero!

Right?

Eventually they let him go, and he has a shiny new burn on his shoulder and a new hole in his shirt. He stumbles into the library with ten minutes left until the end of lunch. The librarian glances up, then returns her focus to her computer.

He sits himself down at his usual computer, in a corner that lets him see the door and isn’t immediately noticeable. He sets his notebook next to the mouse, pen clipped to the front cover, and logs in.

But what is he going to search for? He thinks about looking for more hero fights, but as he pulls up the browser, all he can hear is Kacchan, telling him he’ll never be a hero.

So instead of going to the Hero Public Safety Commission’s website to look at the rankings, or the Japanese Pokemon League’s website for gym battles, he finds himself typing in a question he’s been avoiding.

_Can you be a hero without a flashy quirk?_

That one question is how Izuku learns there are actually different types of heroes—and one of those types is underground.

* * *

His mom is working late again that day, so instead of going to the park and training with the wild Pokemon, Izuku takes advantage of the time alone to research what, exactly, an underground hero is.

He turns to a fresh page of his notebook—only half-full so far—and begins to jot down notes.

There seems to be some controversy about them, to Izuku’s inexpert eye. And not much information. He finds a few articles that go over the basics, though.

An underground hero works primarily at night, and tends to deal more with everyday criminals than the big, flashy villains that end up on the news. Which Izuku thinks is really cool, because he thinks that actually would help more people. Their identities tend to be unknown, and they tend to stay away from the media, which results in low rankings, if they make it on the board at all. And he thinks he would be fine with that, if he’s honest—he doesn’t want to be a hero because of the popularity rankings, after all. He wants to help people.

There are also a couple articles that compare underground heroes to licensed vigilantes, but he doesn’t really know what that connection is, so he ignores them for now.  
But it makes Izuku stop and think.

He always said he wanted to be like All Might—to save people with a smile and have them feel safe just from him being there. But he also knows that being exactly like All Might is impossible. No one really knows what, exactly, All Might’s quirk is, anyway…and Izuku doesn’t have a quirk at all. So that would be kind of an impossible goal.

But.

That doesn’t mean he can’t be a hero. Most underground heroes, from what he’s able to find, tend to have non-physical quirks, or “weak” quirks. Quirks that people say are unsuited to heroics, and yet they manage anyway.

So he searches for underground hero fights. There aren’t many videos to be found—most are clips between thirty and forty-five seconds. But it tells him what he needs to know: most of them don’t rely on their quirks to fight. They use support weapons or hand-to-hand combat, or a combination of the two.

He stumbles onto a small forum, too, dedicated to underground heroes. People post their encounter stories, and sometimes short video clips. There isn’t any information that could be used to track the hero in question—there are very specific rules about that: no posting specific dates or times, no posting specifics about quirks, and definitely no posting more than a vague description, and that’s only if you don’t actually know the hero’s codename. All very understandable. Some heroes only have a handful of posts, but others have an entire board dedicated to them.

One of the more popular boards is dedicated to a Musutafu-based underground pro called Eraserhead, and he quickly becomes one of Izuku’s favorites.

The man avoids the media like the plague, so no one knows what he looks like or his name. But from the information Izuku is able to find, he has a high villain capture rate and almost no civilian casualties or injuries. Like many underground heroes, he wears all black, and the best description allowed on the forum is “he’s kinda scruffy and has this wicked cool scarf thing for a weapon.” There are dozens of posts, mostly posts from people saying thanks and a couple debates about him—and the debates are fun to read through, especially when LuckyBlackCat67 gets involved, they just appear and chaos follows in their wake—and in all the dozens of threads, only one (pinned at the top so it’s easy to find) has a video clip.

ERASERHEAD TAKES DOWN ROBBERY THUGS!

It’s thirty-seven seconds, and solidifies the pro’s place in Izuku’s heart as second-favorite.

* * *

Izuku starts an entirely new entry for Eraserhead, just based on those thirty-seven seconds. He wishes he had his own computer, then he could save the video to look at later, but he just has to hope it doesn’t get taken down. He settles for writing every scrap of information he can.

The pro’s quirk isn’t entirely clear—he only seems to use it once in the whole video. He grabs one of the two thugs, hair stirring like there's a breeze, and the thug brings his hands up like he’s going to use his own quirk, except it doesn’t work. The guy freezes, starts to panic, and two hits later is down on the ground, unconscious. The other thug manages to send out their Pokemon, a Mightyena, but it’s quickly taken down by…is that a Gengar?

Izuku pauses, backs the video up a couple seconds, and hits play. It _is_. It had been almost too fast to spot, but the glowing red eyes and purple blob that shoots out of a shadow are unmistakable. Though, it’s impossible to tell what move the ghost type had just used.

He adds a quick (and kind of really terrible, but who’s going to know about it?) sketch of the pro, and a slightly better sketch of the Gengar.

It seems like Eraserhead’s quirk might cancel, or prevent the activation, of someone else’s quirk. Izuku thinks that’s amazing—he knows how much everyone relies on their quirks in a fight, judging from his experiences with his own bullies, and Eraserhead is basically forcing them onto an even playing field. The actual fight itself is entirely quirkless.

And he has a Gengar. Ghost types are definitely _not_ popular with most heroes—he can only think of a couple in the entire Top 100 that have even one on their team. They’re kind of like bug types like that—just not friendly-looking enough.

A few minutes before his mom is due to return home, he carefully erases his search history and hides his notebook, a soft smile touching his lips. Barely there, but real nonetheless.

* * *

Seeing that video of Eraserhead, short as it was, rekindles the dying flame in Izuku’s heart. Nothing can seem to touch it, either, not Kacchan telling him how pathetic he is, or his mother telling him he can’t do it without a quirk.

But it also makes him very, very aware that he’s going to have to somehow make up for his lack of a quirk. Underground heroes clearly need to be very fit and have some sort of combat skill, and that takes years to learn properly, so he needs to start thinking about it now.

Well, at least he can start getting in shape, he decides. He takes to running everywhere—which, as a bonus, also helps him get away from bullies easier! And when he takes Blippy to the park he practices pull-ups. Though he can only manage one if he jumps and half of a second, because they’re _hard_. He does sit-ups and push-ups in his room before school, keeping a careful record of how many he manages, and practices climbing trees, making sure he’s well into the wooded area so he doesn’t get in trouble.

Kacchan notices, of course. In hindsight, he would have been more surprised if the other boy didn’t; Kacchan is smart and often catches things even their teacher misses. And he always seems to be watching everything Izuku does, so he’s bound to notice something has changed. The blonde catches him after school one day, palms already sparking and stinging his wrist.

“What the hell are you doing, Deku?” Kacchan growls, slamming him into the wall of the building. It’s just them, no one else—Kacchan backing him into a corner, the brick warm and rough against Izuku’s back.

“What d-do you m-mean, Kacchan?” he says, his voice soft from disuse. He mentally checks through everything he’s done lately, trying to think of everything Kacchan might have seen and what he might think of it. Maybe he saw Izuku climbing in the park?

“You run off after school everyday,” Kacchan says, “and disappear into the park, and you’re doing better in P.E. than everyone except me. A pathetic deku shouldn’t be able to do that. You trainin’ or some shit?”

“N-no!” Well, he _had_ been faster during P.E., hadn’t he? Although why Kacchan cared was beyond him; the explosive boy had said it himself, Izuku still hadn’t beaten him in anything, so it shouldn’t matter.

“Auntie told you to stop that shit, Deku,” Kacchan growls out. He slams an open palm against the side of the building, a small explosion leaving a dark scorch mark on the brick. “You can’t be a hero without a quirk, remember? Mom says so, Auntie says so, all our teachers say so. So knock it the hell off, got it?”

Izuku wants, desperately, to show his friend his research. All the heroes who do _exactly_ what everyone has said they couldn’t. But that would be a terrible idea.

It’s not just that he thinks Kacchan wouldn’t listen—though he does think so—but that the other boy would turn around and tell his mom. He remembers losing Blippy for a whole month and suppresses a shudder—what if this time it’s longer?

So he takes a deep breath and looks his friend in the eye. He feels a twinge of regret for what he’s about to do, but he shoves it away. He keeps his arms hanging limply at his sides—he doesn’t want to seem defensive, or that’ll just make Kacchan think he’s right. “I’m not training, Kacchan. I promise.”

“You better not be, stupid nerd.” Apparently satisfied, the blonde-haired boy steps back. He flexes his hands, then shoves them into his pockets. “’Cuz if I catch you, you’re gonna regret it. Got it, Deku?”

“Yes, Kacchan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exercise stuff mentioned is suuuuuuper vague because I am by no means an expert in what's healthy and what's overdoing it for a young kid >.>


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the third grade slips by, mostly uneventfully. Izuku convinces Inko to enroll him into gymnastics as his birthday present—a new, mostly-safe hobby that he claims is solely to keep him busy and in shape. He tries to convince her to enroll him in martial arts, too, but she refuses—it’s too dangerous, even with an instructor always there, and she thinks it’ll encourage “hero nonsense.”

It isn’t much, but it’s a start.

Then comes fourth grade.

The beginning of fourth grade is one Izuku will always remember, because it gives him the key to his dream.

The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, dripping pink petals everywhere and filling the air with a sweet scent that lodges itself in his brain forever. It makes the walk to school pleasant, despite knowing school itself won’t be.

Spring is Izuku’s favorite time of year. It’s new beginnings and another step forward toward becoming a hero. And even though he knows it won’t happen, it always makes him hold out just the littlest bit of hope that this year will be different from the others. Of course, as soon as class introductions are over, that hope goes straight out the window, but it still continues to exist nonetheless.

And this spring, he acquires some very important information.

The teacher this year is even less interested in helping Izuku than previous years—they at least pretended to care to his face, but this one doesn’t even try. He hates that, but it’s also oddly refreshing, not to have that false hope dangled in front of him. But it also means the bullies are immediately emboldened, so rather than try to go outside to play at lunch, he immediately takes a roundabout route to the library.

He once again finds himself looking up official League battles on the Japanese Pokemon League website, but a mis-click has him on the FAQ page for provisional training licenses (which is sometimes shortened to PTL). He’s about to back out of it when he sees a line about it being a requirement for some hero schools.

He pauses. He could see why some hero schools would prefer their students to have a provisional license—it would allow them to have up to three Pokemon instead of just one and would allow them to partake in official battles. But does that mean Yuuei would require it?

It was also the first step to getting a full trainer’s license, which is _not_ a requirement for any hero school but essentially emancipates the trainer. Which, if he’s honest, he might very well need in order to even get _to_ Yuuei just because he knows his mom probably wouldn’t sign off on the enrollment paperwork. He would already need her permission for the PTL, which is going to be borderline impossible as it is, but at least if he got that, then getting the full license would be an option…he wouldn’t need her permission to take _that_ exam.

He navigates to Yuuei’s website, and quickly discovers that while it isn’t required, it _is_ very encouraged. He bites his thumb nail and considers.

On the one hand, it’s going to be almost impossible to get his mom to say yes. He’s going to need a really good excuse to get the provisional license, and that’s going to take a lot of research and careful planning. It might be more trouble than it’s worth, especially since it could very well take until high school, if it happens at all.

On the other, having three Pokemon would certainly give him an edge in Yuuei’s entrance exam, and while it’s a bit early to be thinking about that, it’s also not. He’s going to need time to train his team to the point of being able to help him in the exam, especially since he doesn’t have a quirk to help pick up the slack.

It could be worth it, he decides eventually. If only for the edge it’ll give him in the actual exam.

Now he just needs a plan.

* * *

“H-hey, Mama?” Izuku tacks a smile onto his face, tangling his fingers in the fabric of his jeans to keep himself from fidgeting. Fidgeting is a tell he hasn’t been able to entirely get rid of yet.

“Yes, dear?” Inko is sitting at the kitchen table, going through paperwork on yet another case. She’s been swamped lately.

“Um, w-well…” Here goes nothing, he thinks. He holds up a flyer he printed off at school. “Th-there’s a summer c-camp this year with Ok-kido-hakase. I was wondering if I c-could go?” He swallows thickly. Breathe, he reminds himself, nice and even. Nothing is wrong.

His mom takes the paper from him, reading it over with a critical eye. Izuku waits patiently. It’s a legitimate advertisement that he printed off earlier, and the camp really _is_ happening this summer.

“It certainly looks educational,” she allows finally. She sets the page on a table. “But it says you would need a provisional training license, and you don’t have that.” She eyes him doubtfully. “I don’t know if it would be safe to send you…”

“I-it would be c-completely safe,” he says cheerfully. He looks her in the eye. It’s a little like talking to Kacchan, in a way, he thinks; he can’t show any kind of weakness, but he also can’t look like he’s challenging her. Though in this case, the stakes are a little higher than a singed shirt or ringing ears.

He could lose Blippy again.

“They’re going to have the professor and his aides there the whole time,” he assures her, eyes wide and innocent. “Plus the Wild, Wild Pussycats are stationed pretty close by in case of emergencies.” The Wild, Wild Pussycats were one of the few hero teams Izuku is allowed to have merch for—they’re focused on rescue instead of villain apprehension, so his mom is less concerned with him getting “ideas.”

“And why do you even want to go to begin with?” she asks pointedly, the paperwork now being entirely ignored.

“Um, I…w-well, I was just th-thinking…” He swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady. Try not to stutter too much, he reminds himself. “S-since I can’t be a t-trainer or a hero, I th-thought it would be really c-cool to, um, maybe become a Pokemon Professor? A-and I thought going t-to this camp would be a g-good start…”

Arceus above, he’s such a liar. The guilt eats at him, but he keeps it off his face, hiding it behind an approximation of All Might’s smile, one he’s practiced and practiced until using it comes easy. Not natural, not by a long shot, but he can pull it up with barely a thought now, and his mom doesn’t seem to notice how fake it is, so it’s worth it.

“A…Pokemon Professor?” she asks slowly. “That’s…really? You mean it?” Izuku nods hesitantly, and her face breaks into a thousand-watt smile. “Izuku, that’s wonderful! I knew once you gave up this hero nonsense you would find something.” She gets up and pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tightly. He stiffens a bit at first, something he’s found himself doing more and more often lately, but it’s Mama, so he forces himself to relax.

Eventually, she lets him go. “Well, let me look into this,” she says, reading over the paper again. “I’ll double-check the requirements, but…” She pauses for a moment, nose scrunching as she thinks. “Well, if—and it’s a big _if_ , mind you—if you really need the license, and if you can keep your grades up, and if I don’t get any more calls from your teachers between now and your birthday…I guess if you can manage that, then I’ll sign off on the license and sign you up for the summer camp. Okay?”

“Really?” He bounces excitedly on his toes.

“Yes, but only if you do all three of those things. I swear, Izuku I don’t want to hear you’ve been in any fights or anything!”

“Yes, Mama! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” He darts forward and squeezes her in as tight a hug as he can manage. He’s so happy right now he could float into the atmosphere, his stomach light and tingly.

She hugs him tightly back. “I love you, Izuku. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t look up at her, keeping his face buried in her stomach. “I love you too, Mama.”

* * *

Izuku continues staying in the library for lunch and breaks, and does his level best to avoid bullies so there’s no chance of him being accused of starting fights. Sometimes that means taking a roundabout route to the library. Sometimes that means spending lunch lurking in a lesser-known stairwell. His muttering bothers Kacchan, setting him (and consequently his other bullies) off, so he gets in the habit of touching his lips to make sure he isn’t muttering, sometimes biting the edge of his sleeve or even his fingernails to make sure.

Sometimes his bullies track him down anyway, even when he’s sure he hasn’t done anything wrong. If they manage to corner him, he doesn’t fight back, not wanting to risk catching the blame. If they demand his homework or lunch, he gives it to them without a fight.

It doesn’t take long for his classmates to notice the change in behavior and take advantage of it. And while Izuku’s a smart kid, he’s still young (nine, not quite ten) and inexperienced, so he gets caught more often than he likes.

It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. It’s worth it. Even cornered by Kacchan and his lackeys, even after getting yet another light burn and another collection of bruises, he still thinks it’s worth it.

Doing this gets him his provisional training license and is one step closer to becoming a hero.

* * *

His birthday arrives, and somehow, miracle of miracles, he hasn’t had a single call home. It is, so far, the proudest accomplishment of Izuku’s short life.

“I still don’t know about this,” Inko mutters, scrolling through the Pokemon League website. Her fingers tap rhythmically at the keyboard, filling in his name, age, social security number, and so on. Izuku stands next to her, trying not to bounce impatiently as she fills out the form. “I don’t want any hero nonsense, Izuku, do you understand? I’ll have them pull your license, don’t think I won’t.”

“Yes, Mama.” Don’t fidget, don’t fidget, don’t fidget, he chants silently. She’ll know something’s up then.

Fidgeting is the tell he hasn’t been able to erase completely. He could smile on command, lie with a straight face, but his fingers still picked and pulled at the fabric of his shirt, his jeans, or whatever else he could get his hands on.

Finally, though, the application is filled out and sent off. A notice pops up on the screen—the Pokemon League is running a background check on Izuku, and provided he passes that, they’ll email them his ID number and send his physical ID through the mail, which should arrive within two weeks. But the ID number would be enough to sign him up for Okido-hakase’s summer camp, and that’s going to be his (slightly delayed) birthday present this year.

There isn’t much else for their celebration—his mom brings out a small cake, vanilla with All Might-colored frosting, sings “Happy Birthday,” and takes a picture of him and Blippy, just like every year.

That’s fine, though. Izuku celebrates quietly that night, just him and Blippy, after his mom has gone to bed.

“We’re g-gonna have so m-much fun,” Izuku whispers, hugging the bug type tightly. “We’re g-gonna see so m-many Pokemon, and we’re g-gonna meet Ok-kido-hakase! And…” He bites his lip and stares up at the ceiling. “Do you th-think…do you think w-we might make a f-friend?”

He hopes so.

Please, he prays silently, sparing a thought toward the quadrupedal Creator. Please, just let him make _one_ friend. Kacchan…he doesn’t think Kacchan is really his friend anymore. He just wants _one_ person who doesn’t care about his quirklessness, who will talk to him and hang out with him and _believe in him_.

Please, just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little bit short, but that's okay, these aren't exactly set lengths. 
> 
> Also, sorry if there's any weird grammar, I was a little drunk when I wrote this ^_^;; I tried to catch it in editing, but some might have slipped through.


	6. Chapter 6

The night before camp arrives, and Izuku is so excited he can’t sleep. He can’t even close his eyes. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to count Mareep, but when that doesn’t work he flips onto his stomach. When _that_ doesn’t work, he curls onto one side, then flops over onto the other so he faces the wall.

It’s going to be a whole week of freedom, and he can’t wait. They’re going to be up in the mountains at an outpost Ookido-hakase likes to use to study wild Pokemon in the summer. They’re going to sleep in cabins and take nature hikes and learn how to use a microscope and how to write their observations and it’s going to be so. Much. Fun!

Even better, none of his classmates will be there. All of them have been talking about becoming trainers or heroes, and they’re all going to summer camps specifically geared towards those two goals—Kacchan has been bragging about the one he’s going to for the last month and a half. No one at Ookido-hakase’s camp is going to even know who Izuku is—they won’t even know he’s quirkless, unless he tells them.

And, well, if he’s honest he’s also a little nervous. It’ll be the first time he’s ever spent the night away from home—even if he had friends he could have a sleepover with, his mom would never allow it.

He drops off to sleep eventually, Blippy curled up on the pillow next to his head, and dreams about all the cool Pokemon he’s going to see.

* * *

Inko shakes him awake at a ridiculously early hour so they can double-check his bags and eat. Izuku waits until she’s finished with her inspection to slip his journal into his backpack—he doesn’t want her to find it while he’s gone.

Of course, they’re ridiculously early when they get to the drop-off point. They’re the only ones there. Izuku sits on the edge of a low wall, his hand clutched tightly in his mom’s—even though no one else is even on the street and Izuku’s never been one to run off at random, she acts like he will. Or like someone will just scoop him up and run.

Still, he doesn’t mind it too much. It’s nice to sit there, the morning air slowly warming as the sun rises, his backpack and small duffel bag sitting on the sidewalk, listening to his mom as she talks about work and how proud she is that he’s picked a more attainable dream.

He feels a little bad for lying to her. She’s his mother, he loves her and doesn’t want her to think badly of him when she finds out, because he knows she will at some point. But he can’t tell her without risking his license, and she just seems so happy right now, he can’t bear the thought of ruining it.

He just has to hold on until Yuuei’s entrance exam. Five and a half years. He presses his fingers against his lips to make sure he doesn’t start muttering. He can make it that long, right?

More kids trickle in, some dragging their parents along while others stumble after in an impressive zombie impersonation. It leaves the drop-off point, the sidewalk in front of Izuku’s elementary school, feeling almost crowded. Inko checks her smart phone and clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“I’m going to be late if they don’t get here soon,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose at the time. She glances at him. “Maybe we should just go back home. If we hurry, I can drop you off and get to work on time…”

His heart sinks, but he shakes his head rapidly, trying not to look too much like that would bother him. “I-if you g-go all the way b-back home, you’ll b-be late for s-sure.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Izuku,” she says impatiently, “and I can’t leave you here alone. Come on, pick up your stuff—”

Just then, the bus rounds the corner of the street, and Izuku lets out a breath. He points to it. “L-looks like i-it’s here!” he says cheerfully. “N-now you won’t b-be late!”

She blinks and turns. She frowns when she sees it, but then she just sniffs, hands on her hips. “Well, there’s that, at least.” She bends slightly to kiss his cheek and give him a hug, her movements stiff. “I have to go. Make sure to write me everyday!”

“Yes, M-Mama.”

The bus pulls up to the curb and the aide hops down from the steps. She has auburn hair pulled back into a thick ponytail, leaving only her bangs to frame bright, glittering black eyes. She wears a white blouse and a blue skirt underneath a white lab coat, which she leaves hanging open in deference to the heat that’s already building, despite the early hour. And she has such a nice smile, Izuku thinks; bright and warm, like how Mama smiles when she’s happy, something that’s become increasingly rare.

“Good morning, everyone!” The kids and parents chorus a greeting back, though it’s quiet and half-mumbled. The woman giggles. “Now, let me just call role so I can see who else we need to wait for…” She picks up a clipboard from…somewhere, Izuku’s not entirely sure. Was it just sitting on the dash of the bus? It couldn’t have fit in the lab coat… “Alright, then. Akabane Satoshi is on the bus…” Izuku blinks at that, because when would he have gotten on the bus if it just got there? “Now, when I call your name, go ahead and tell me you’re here.”

It doesn’t take long—there’s only maybe nine of them standing there, and Izuku’s name is called last.

“Aaaand…that’s it! Everyone’s here.” The woman smiles and scribbles on the board. “My, small group this year…but that just means more fun for us! My name is Akabane Hanako, and I’m one of Okido-hakase’s aides. If everyone will file onto the bus and bring your stuff with you, we’ll hit the road right away!”

* * *

Izuku, being at the back of the group, is the last person to get on the bus. This leaves him with a choice of sitting in the back, on his own, or in the open seat in the front, next to a boy in a red jacket and a red and white ball cap. Before he can choose, though, the boy smiles and waves at him.

“Hi, I’m Akabane Satoshi! You can call me Satoshi, if you like. Wanna sit here?”

“Um, i-if you’re sure…” Izuku shoves his bag under the bench and sits, hugging his backpack to his chest like a life preserver. It kind of is, in a sense—it has his notebook, Blippy’s PokeBall, his favorite All Might figurine, and a book on Pokemon types that he had checked out from the library for the trip. Anything he would want to keep from his mom. “I-I’m Midoriya Izuk-ku. You can c-call me Iz-zuku!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Izuku,” Satoshi says cheerfully. “Man, I can’t wait ‘til we get there, we’re going to have so much fun! We’re gonna get to see the Pokemon Ookido-hakase’s studying, and look around the lab, and we’ll get to practice battling—”

“W-we will?” Izuku gasps, twisting in his seat to face Satoshi more fully. His grip on backpack tightens in his excitement. That wasn’t in the brochure! He’s sure it wasn’t, he’s read it so many times—

“Yeah, of course! That’s one of the reasons why we need our provisional trainer’s license,” Satoshi explains, puffing his chest out slightly. “That, and cuz the wild Pokemon we’ll be so close to.”

“Very true, Satoshi,” Akabane-san says, turning in her seat to face them. The bus rumbles to life and pulls away from the curb. “Pokemon battling is an integral part of Pokemon-human relations, so the professor always has at least one afternoon set aside for it. Have you ever battled before, Midoriya-kun?”

“Um, s-sort of? M-me and Blippy would b-battle a little with s-some of the Pokemon in the park, b-but um, n-not all out.” His mouth feels sticky and dry from saying so much to a complete stranger, but Akabane-san doesn’t seem to mind him going slow, and she doesn’t say anything mean about his stuttering. “We, um, d-didn’t want to ac-cidentally hurt them…”

“That’s very kind of you,” Akabane-san praises, giving him a soft smile. “Not many trainers think about whether or not a wild Pokemon might get hurt.” He flushes and looks down. “Are you going to be a trainer, Midoriya-kun?”

He freezes in place. What should he say? He should have thought of something in advance—it’s a natural question to ask.

“Izuku?”

“Midoriya-kun? Is something wrong?”

He swallows hard and decides to go with the truth—or a little bit of it, anyway. It’s probably better to find out now, he decides.

“Um, Mama d-doesn’t want me t-to b-b-be a trainer,” he explains carefully, eyes still downcast. He raises his head just enough to glance at Akabane-san’s face without being too obvious about it. “She thinks it’s t-too d-danger-rous for me, b-bec-cause I d-d-don’t have a q-qu-quirk.”  
  
Akabane-san blinks, her face carefully blank as she considers him. “Well, that’s—”  
  
“That’s stupid,” Satoshi says matter-of-factly. He leans back, hands clasped behind his head.  
  
“Satoshi,” his mother chides. Even so, her face is full of exasperated fondness.  
  
(And when was the last time his own mother looked at Izuku like that? He can’t remember. It’s always worry, now, or annoyance. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, she seems relieved, usually when he agrees not to do something.)  
  
“Well, it _is_. You never told me _I_ couldn’t be a trainer.” Satoshi shoots Izuku a wide grin, full of teeth and sunshine. “I don’t have a quirk, either. But I’m gonna be the greatest Pokemon Master that ever lived!”

Izuku’s head snaps up, breath catching in his chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah! That’s why I’m going to Ookido-hakase’s summer camp, cuz it’s sure to help me on my journey! And at the end of the year I’m gonna get my full trainer’s license.”  
  
“As long as you can pass the test, anyway,” Akabane-san says, giggling as her son pouts.

“W-well yeah, of c-course you can do i-it!” Izuku bites his lip, almost not daring to hope. “You really d-don’t have a quirk?” He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for one of them to yell “Gotcha!” and laugh, but instead Satoshi just nods.

“It’s not like not having one will stop me,” the other boy says, his voice taking on an edge Izuku is almost familiar with. “Nothing says you have to have a quirk to be a trainer.”  
  
(It’s only later Izuku realizes—Satoshi’s voice sounds kind of like Izuku feels when he talks about being a hero. Like he’ll never give it up.

And maybe that’s what prompts his next question.)

“W-what about a h-hero?” Izuku blurts out. The mother and son duo look at him, nonplussed. “D-do you think someone w-without a quirk c-could be a h-hero?”

Akabane-san sets one hand thoughtfully on her cheek and hums, mulling the question over. Every beat of silence makes Izuku cringe, his chest feeling heavier and heavier, until she finally speaks.

“Well, I imagine you’ll have to work really hard, but I don’t see why not.”

Tears fill his eyes, a sob catching in his throat before he can stop it. Satoshi doesn’t seem to notice, continuing on as seriously as his mother. “Well,” the other boy says slowly, “I haven’t heard of a hero without a quirk before…but that just means you’ll be the first!”

Izuku buries his face in his backpack and bawls.

* * *

The other kids seem a bit weirded out after Izuku’s breakdown on the bus, but Satoshi, after his initial panic, doesn’t treat him any different. Izuku’s grateful; he knows he’s a crybaby—Kacchan’s said it enough—and he was worried his new friend wouldn’t want anything to do with him when he found out.

“It’s fine,” Satoshi assures him, patting him on the shoulder. “Mom said sometimes people have so many emotions they can’t keep them in, so they come out as tears. That’s all.”

The camp is located up in the mountains. There are a few cabins and a larger building, all made out of logs, arranged in a circle around a set of picnic tables, shaded by a large awning. Barring any bad weather, according to Akabane-san, they’ll have meals and do their crafts projects there.

Ookido-hakase and a few other aides are waiting as they file off the bus. “Why, hello there!” he says, smiling softly at them. The group choruses their own greeting back. “I’m so glad to see everyone made it here safely. Lunch is almost ready, and after that we’ll talk about some of the things we’ll be doing this week. Hanako?”

Akabane-san nods sharply. “All right, everyone!” The kids group together, giving her their complete attention. “I’m going to divide you into two groups of five, okay? We’re going to put our stuff away in the cabins and then we’ll all meet right back here.”

Izuku and Satoshi stick together, eventually being grouped with a few other kids and ushered into their cabin—their home for the next week. They immediately claim a set of bunk beds for themselves, with Izuku setting his bag and backpack on the bottom while Satoshi tosses his own bag onto the top. After, they trek back out and, once everyone’s done, they’re given lunch.

Afterward, Ookido-hakase stands, and everyone slowly quiets down, watching him expectantly. “Alright, an announcement first!

“While normally we have the Wild, Wild Pussycats helping us, this year they’re helping a hero class with their annual training camp. That means you all need to be careful, because we don’t have them immediately available to help if there’s trouble.” Izuku wishes they could go watch the training—they’re hero students, they’re probably learning all kinds of cool things! But he knows they would only be a distraction. And he’ll learn all that stuff when he gets to a hero school himself, he thinks determinedly.

The professor keeps talking, but Izuku doesn’t pay too close attention—it’s mostly just the stuff that was in the brochure, anyway.

Then the aides start passing around journals, and he tunes back in because they’re _finally_ going to do something! He takes the one Akabane-san hands him, the cover a glossy forest green with “Ookido-hakase’s Summer Camp!” in yellow block letters on the front. She offers him a tub of pens, and he picks one with a sky blue shell. There’s a box under the title, where he carefully writes his name and the year.

“One of the things I can’t stress enough as a scientist is the importance of note-taking,” Ookido-hakase tells them. “It helps you remember all the fine details that you would otherwise forget, so remember! Write down everything you can.

“Now, for our first activity, I want everyone to write down why you chose this summer camp. Even if it’s just because you wanted to try something new, which is a perfectly good reason to do a lot of things! And once you have that, write down how you think this camp will help you. There’s also space to draw, which can be really helpful with visualizing the goal you want to accomplish…”

Izuku flips to the first page, which has a big blank box that takes up half; the rest, as well as the back, is lined like normal notebook paper. The aides start placing buckets of colored pencils and markers on the tables, making sure there are plenty in reach of everyone. Everyone else begins scribbling away immediately, or grabs a marker to start drawing, but Izuku pauses.

If Mama knew about this journal, she would definitely want to see it. She likes to know every little detail of his life. If he writes down why he’s here and what his dream is, and she finds it, he’ll be in a lot of trouble. He nibbles the end of his pen thoughtfully. What if she has them take his provisional training license back?

But he also really wants to do well on the assignment. Even if it won’t have a grade. And, well…

…does he have to tell her about it?

He’s pretty sure they won’t just randomly tell his mom about the journal, though he supposes there _is_ a risk of someone bringing it up casually in a conversation. Not much of one, though. And didn’t he already figure out _not telling_ isn’t the same as _lying?_ He’s just…avoiding causing his mom more stress in her life. She already has so much from worrying about him…

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage, lets it out slowly, and sets his pen to the page. And, almost like the pen moves of its own accord, _I want to be a hero when I grow up_ appears in sky blue ink.

* * *

That night, Izuku can’t sleep. His new journal is tucked in his drawer of the cabin’s dresser—there are five, one per bed, for them to put their clothes away. It’s almost like he can sense it, the very idea of its existence burning in his mind like a brand, and his chest tightens at the thought.

What if Mama finds out about it? What if she reads it? What if she has the League take his license away? What if she takes Blippy again? What if—?

“Izuku?” Satoshi’s sleepy voice shakes him from his thoughts, and he realizes he’s gasping for air, tears streaking down his face. “Hey, Izuku? You okay?” The other boy hangs his head over the edge to look at him. Izuku must look terrible; his friend’s eyes widen at the sight of him. He quickly climbs down, landing quietly on the ground without waking any of the cabin’s other occupants. “What’s wrong?”

Izuku tries to answer, but it’s like his throat locks up, feeling for all the world like the words are just slamming against a physical barrier. He stifles a sob and tries to sit up, but he can’t do that either, so instead he curls on his side. Satoshi seems at a loss, but he can’t reassure his friend—and isn’t that just pathetic? His friend is worried about him because Izuku woke him up, and now he can’t even muster up the ability to tell him he’s fine. Kacchan’s right, he really _is_ a crybaby.

“Um, are you sick? Should I go get Mom?” Izuku shakes his head. “Are you sure?” Satoshi whispers. He nods. “Okay…” The other boy frowns in thought, then after a few seconds gives him a light nudge. “Move over?” Izuku sniffs, his breathing still stuttery and uneven, but manages to scoot his way backward. Satoshi wriggles under the blanket and lays down next to him. “I’ll stay here until you feel better, okay?” He yawns and settles in, his breathing turning even and deep.

Satoshi’s breaths form a bit of background noise in the mostly-quiet night, and it doesn’t take long for Izuku to find his own breathing matching his friend’s. They drop off to sleep before Izuku can even tell Satoshi what was wrong, and for the first night in a long time, no dreams wait for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in Pokemon canon Hanako owns/runs a restaurant, but I shot canon and dumped their body in a creek, so...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually have this up a little earlier in the day. Sorry! I totally forgot about today's update!

Their first full day of camp dawns bright and early, with Izuku waking up to their other three cabin mates’ giggling at them. He ignores them; he’s had worse treatment than a bit of giggling, and since Satoshi doesn’t seem to mind either, he’s content to just let it go.

The air is already heating up fast, even though it’s still early in the day. After breakfast they’re told to pair up and take a short walk away from camp to observe the local wild Pokemon.

“Not too far,” Ookido-hakase warns them. “We don’t want anyone getting lost. We’re going to ring the bell for the next activity in one hour, so everyone come back then, okay?” They all shout their agreements, and Izuku immediately goes to stand by Satoshi. Once everyone has a partner, they all split up.

Once they’re under the shade of the trees, the air is marginally cooler. Sweat still beads under Izuku’s hairline, though, not helped by the fact Blippy is currently spread across his shoulders. His weight is comforting, grounding, but almost too warm. Lucky Satoshi—his starter, a Charmander named Char (who is so much nicer than Kacchan’s it was shocking) doesn’t need to be carried in order to keep up. He waddles cheerfully along behind them and even seems to enjoy the heat.

After a few minutes of walking, Satoshi breaks the silence. “Hey Izuku, why were you so upset last night?”

“O-oh, um…” Izuku fidgets, not sure what to say. Satoshi is his friend, and he doesn’t want to lie…but Kacchan’s his friend, too, and would probably just tell him to suck it up, if he asked at all. Although, Satoshi doesn’t seem to be like that. “Well, r-remember when I s-said M-Mama thinks me b-being a trainer or a h-hero would be t-too dangerous?” Satoshi nods. “She only l-let me c-come here because she th-thought I gave up on b-being a hero…I g-guess I freaked out thin-nking about her f-finding out I hadn’t.” He swallows hard, looking down at the ground. “She t-took Blippy for a wh-whole _month_ one t-time, when she f-found out we were t-training.”

“That’s terrible!” Satoshi’s yell sends a few birds flying from the tree branches over them, and he immediately lowers his voice. Char presses against his leg, shaking lightly. “I can’t believe she would do that—Pokemon aren’t toys, you can’t just take them!”

Izuku nods. “W-what if she t-takes him again? W-what if she h-has the League take m-my license?” Tears gather in his eyes just from thinking about it, and he swipes at them with one hand. “I-I don’t think I c-could stand it, S-Satoshi!”

“Don’t worry, she can’t.” Satoshi grabs his shoulders, his grip firm, his voice one part reassurance and two parts determination. “No, listen. She can’t take Blippy away because you have a license now, even if it’s only a provisional one. And they won’t pull your license unless you do something bad. Mom told me about that when I got mine.”

“R-really? It’s just…I n-need it to apply t-to any hero schools, a-a-and…” Izuku takes a steadying breath—this is something he hasn’t told _anyone_ before. “I really w-want to go to Y-Yuuei High School one d-day.”

Satoshi whistles. “That’s gonna be super hard.” Izuku nods. He knows it will be; he’s looked at their acceptance rates, their expulsion rates, their _everything_. It’s the best school in the country, evidenced by most of the Top Ten being Yuuei alumni, including All Might, and it has an entrance exam and curriculum to match. Izuku has never once considered going anywhere else. “But you know what? I think you can do it.”

It’s almost like Kacchan punched him in the gut; he gasps for breath, and he feels hot and cold all at once.

“Izuku, no matter what anyone else says, even your mom—I think you can do it. I think you can be the first quirkless hero in Japan, and I think you can get into Yuuei’s hero course.” Satoshi grins, bright and sharp. “And I’ll be your number one fan! So don’t give up, got it?”

Izuku sniffs hard, not even fighting the tears, and manages a wobbly smile. “I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

  
Izuku sniffs and wipes the remaining dampness from his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to stop and cry in the middle of the woods! And now they don’t have much time left for their assignment; the sun is high enough they’ll have to head back soon. Why did he always have to be such a deku?!

“What d’you mean by that?”

Izuku looks up with a squeak, then bites his lip. “S-sorry, didn’t mean t-to say that o-ou-out loud.”

“Izuku, I don’t mind that,” Satoshi says, frowning. “Just…why’d you call yourself a deku?”

Izuku frowns thoughtfully back. Satoshi seems upset, but he’s not sure why. “T-that’s what everyone calls m-me,” he says slowly. “Deku. It’s, um, a-another way of reading m-my name.”

Satoshi blinks. “That’s…wow. That’s still really mean. You know that, right?”

Izuku looks away. “Y-yeah…”

He still remembers telling (screaming at) his classmates about not liking that nickname. He remembers that only made them use it more, and almost getting in trouble for telling them no. Remembers being told it isn’t a big deal and he should be grateful his classmates “care” enough about him to use a nickname.

_Is_ it as mean as Satoshi says?

They keep walking, silence hanging between them like a thick curtain.

* * *

They’re almost back at camp when they come across one of the coolest Pokemon Izuku’s ever seen in person. Well, all Pokemon are cool, of course, but this one _really_ is!

It’s a Spinarak. It’s easily as long as his forearm, with a green body and segmented legs. It clicks its pincers at him and taps one leg against the branch it’s resting on. Izuku freezes in place and grabs the hem of his shirt, bouncing in place excitedly.

“Wow, s-so cool!”

“Wha—?” Satoshi pauses a few steps ahead and turns. Then he grins and takes a few steps closer to it. “What kind of Pokemon is that?”

“I-it’s a Spinarak, it’s a-a-a bug type, they’re basically l-like giant spiders and they eat other s-small bug types and sometimes birds or f-fish and they’re strong against psychic t-types which is really cool because ps-psychic types tend to be really popular a-a-and they’re just so _cool_ , Satoshi!” Then he slaps a hand over his mouth, inhaling sharply. Arceus, why did he have to be such a blabbermouth? Didn’t Kacchan tell him all the time how annoying that was? Now Satoshi will be annoyed, too!

But Satoshi just laughs brightly. “Yeah, really sounds like it!” He tilts his head, studying the bug type intently. “Shouldn’t it be running away by now? Why’s it hanging around here?”

Izuku inches closer. He wishes he had his notebook with him, but they weren’t supposed to carry it this time—something about learning how to pay attention to and remember details. Which he supposes is a good idea. Not like he could carry his notebook everywhere with him.

Once he’s a little closer, Blippy squeaks at the wild Pokemon, and the Spinarak hisses back. It doesn’t seem aggressive, thankfully. After a short exchange the wild bug type drops from the branch with a line of silk and skitters closer. It hisses and taps its legs impatiently against the dirt, scattering a few fallen leaves.

Well, their experience with Caterpie and the other park Pokemon at least means Izuku can figure out what _this_ one wants pretty easily. “D-do you want to b-battle, Spinarak?”

Spinarak hisses and runs at them, and Blippy jumps down from his place on Izuku’s shoulder, immediately launching a Struggle Bug and forcing the wild Pokemon to dodge.

Spinarak is _fast_. If there’s anything Izuku learns from the battle, it’s that. The over-sized spider is nearly impossible to hit. Their only chance to do so is when it pauses for just a moment to launch an attack of its own—attacks Blippy has to then dodge, because some of them were hitting _way_ harder than they should.

“B-Blippy, save your attack,” Izuku orders, lips pursed. “W-wait until it stops, th-then use Struggle B-Bug as fast as y-you can!”

Blippy pulls it off beautifully. He stays stock-still, move powered up and carefully tracking the spider’s progress, and releases it as soon as Spinarak skids to a halt. It knocks the bug type away, disrupting its attack with a small pop and a puff of green smoke.

“G-good job, Blippy!”

The spider pushes itself back up, shakes itself off, and doesn’t move. Izuku supposes that means the battle is done. He approaches it slowly, with Blippy inching along behind him; he doesn’t want to just leave it there if it’s hurt.

“T-that was a really g-great battle,” he tells it, crouching down a few feet away. “Thanks. Are you o-okay?”

It gives him a soft hiss and scurries closer, moving much slower than before. It has a couple scuff marks, but doesn’t look too hurt. He holds his breath as it taps experimentally at his leg, climbing onto him and settling on his forearm.

“Y-you…want to come w-with me? Really?” It hisses at him and wraps its legs around his forearm. “O-okay! Welcome to the t-team!” He turns carefully and offers his other arm to Blippy. Once he’s carrying both, the two Pokemon have a brief conversation before settling back down. “O-okay, then…what should I name you…”

“How about Pennywise? That creepy clown that turns into a spider?” Satoshi suggests. The bug type gives him a look, and Izuku is sure he can feel its derision despite its inability to make any kind of facial expression. “Or not…”

“I-I wouldn’t want to be n-named after a creepy clown e-either…” Izuku mutters. He bites his lip, thinking hard. “What a-about Spindle? They’re used to m-make thread, and you make s-silk thread…” The spider Pokemon seems to consider it, then hisses. “Awesome!”

Then the bell rings in the distance, summoning them back to camp, and Izuku and Satoshi turn to each other. They’ll have to hurry back, or they’ll be late for the next activity.

“Congrats on the new teammate!” Satoshi flashes him a wide grin. “Gotta admit, I didn’t think it would come back with us…actually.” He fishes through his jacket pockets until he finds something, then pulls out a minimized PokeBall. “Here, you can make it official!”

Izuku takes it, a lump building in his throat. He would probably be crying now, but he’s dried out and exhausted from the previous round of tears. “Th-thanks, Satoshi.” He clicks the center button to bring it to its full size. “You ready, S-Spindle?” The Pokemon gives a whole-body dip forward—probably the closest it can get to a nod, he reasons. He lightly taps the PokeBall against it, then waits for it to stop shaking. Once the spider’s curled form is visible through the top, he immediately lets it back out. “Th-thank you, Spindle. Let’s b-be heroes together, okay?”

* * *

The rest of the week passes quickly. Izuku fills his journal with far more information than the other campers, analyzing the wild Pokemon they observe the same way he does with heroes and their teams and recording every one of Blippy’s battles (there are three) in exacting detail. He also learns Spindle is a girl, and she’s special—Ookido-hakase says she has a special type of ability called Sniper, which makes her hits more accurate and sometimes _really_ strong.

Of course, they also have arts and crafts. They draw pictures, and Izuku’s sketches have become noticeably better. They make Pokemon models out of air-dry clay—Izuku winds up with a whole set, a little clumsy and rough looking, but painted as carefully as he can manage, and the species they represent are at least recognizable. The first one he makes is a Caterpie, in honor of the bug type that helped them train at home. Akabane-san helps Izuku wrap them up so they won’t break, and even gives him a small wooden box to help protect them more.

A couple days in, during another nature hike, Satoshi manages to catch a Pikachu he names Pika. Izuku is sad he missed out on it—he had been partnered with a girl from the other cabin. They had been tasked with finding a water type at the nearby creek, but she had pretty much ignored him the entire time. Still, he’s happy for his friend.

On their last afternoon together, Akabane-san calls them all together, a small digital camera in one hand.

“Alright, we’re going to take some pictures! That way you guys will have something to remember this summer by. We’ll have the tallest kids standing here…and now you five sit here…”

In the end, they all got three pictures, printed out in Ookido-hakase’s lab and small enough to fit in a pocket album: One with all ten of them, one with their cabin-mates, and an individual shot with their Pokemon partner. Izuku tucks them carefully between the pages of his journal so they won’t be scrunched or bent, and vows to get a photo album to keep them in so they stay safe.

* * *

The next morning, Izuku wakes up long before anyone else. His stomach is a tight, cold knot as he stares up at the underside of Satoshi’s bunk.

They’re going home today, and Izuku would really rather _not_.

One week of freedom, and now the idea of returning to his mother makes him feel smothered and breathless. Not that he doesn’t want to see his mom again, because he does! He loves her, he misses her, and she would be sad if he stayed away, which he doesn’t want. It’s just…she’s so overprotective. Which he had known before, but now it’s really obvious.

He’s always known that, no matter how many times his mom says it, it isn’t normal to keep a kid from playing just because he doesn’t have a quirk. He knows he’s not less capable, like Kacchan says, or less intelligent, like his teachers insist. He _knows_ that, it’s just…hard, he decides eventually, to remember that when he’s in the middle of it constantly.

But here no one treats him any differently than the other kids. He is allowed to do all the same activities as everyone else, he is treated the same, and no one ever tells him he might not be able to do something.

Still, he can’t exactly live up in the mountains on his own, so when they’re called to wake up—a little earlier than previous days, so they can get home at a decent time—he gets up and gets ready with everyone else, and follows them out to breakfast, dragging his feet the whole way.

Akabane-san helps his group go through the cabin, double- and triple-checking to make sure everyone has everything packed. While she helps Izuku re-pack his clothes, she hands him a slip of paper.

“That’s my cell phone number,” she murmurs, returning to folding. “You can call us any time, okay? Even if…even if it’s the middle of the night. So call if you need anything, okay? And I know Satoshi will want to hear from you.”

“Y-yes, Akabane-san,” Izuku says, his throat tight. The knot in his stomach warms and loosens.

“Don’t worry,” Satoshi says cheerfully as they load onto the bus. “I’ll get my own phone soon, too! Mom’s getting me one when I pass the full license exam. Then we can text and I can send you pictures of my team and everything!”

“B-but I don’t have a-a phone, Satoshi,” Izuku says quietly, sliding onto the seat bench next to his friend.

“Well, when you get one you’ll just have to give it to me,” the other boy says frankly.

Izuku wishes he had a better handle on his tears. “O-okay, I will.”

* * *

It’s early afternoon by the time the bus arrives back at the drop off point. A crowd of parents wait for them, including Inko. Izuku is giddy with surprise; he honestly thought she would still be at work and he would have to make his own way home. Did she leave work early just for him? The thought makes his heart warm, even as it fills with guilt at his previous desire to stay at camp.

Before he can even stand up to leave, Satoshi grabs him in a tight hug. Izuku freezes for a minute, because it’s the first time in _forever_ that someone other than his mom has hugged him, but he manages to hug him back.

(The last time someone who wasn’t Mama hugged him, it was Kacchan. Kacchan’s hugs were just as tight as Satoshi’s, a little rough, but warm and comforting, suffused with the scent of caramel after his quirk manifested.

He misses them.)

“Call soon,” Satoshi demands when they break apart. His eyes are suspiciously bright. Izuku nods, his own vision starting to take on a watery edge. “I’m serious! And see if you can talk your mom into getting you a phone, okay? I want pictures of you, Blippy, and Spindle!”

“I-I’ll try,” Izuku promises. He grabs his stuff and hauls it off the bus, then turns to wave. Satoshi waves back through the window—apparently he and Akabane-san get to return to the camp to help with Ookido-hakase’s research.

His mom picks up the small bag of clothes and wraps him in a tight hug. “Did you have fun, baby?”

Izuku nods, smiling sunshine-bright. “Lots of fun! And I made a new friend!”

“Honey, that’s great! Tell me everything.” She takes his hand, and they turn to walk home.

“Mama, it was so cool! We saw so many different kinds of Pokemon, there were lots of Caterpie and Weedle, and we even saw a Kakuna, but there weren’t any Beedrill nearby. Ookido-hakase said the Wild, Wild Pussycats went through the area a few days before we got there to make sure there weren’t any dangerous Pokemon nearby.”

“Oh, that’s good! I was worried there would be.”

“And we made clay models of the Pokemon we saw! I’ll show you when we get home. Akabane-san said she thought mine were the best, but she was quiet about it so she wouldn’t upset some of the other campers.”

“Very considerate of her. Who is Akabane-san?”

“The lady who picked us up and dropped us off.”

“I see! I wish I had gotten her number, she seems nice…”

“Oh, I have it! She gave it to me so I could call Satoshi, my new friend. He’s her son.”

“I’ll have to thank her for looking after you this week, then.”

He of course leaves out the Pokemon battles, and that he was allowed to wander the woods with only Satoshi and their Pokemon. That would just upset her. It leaves him feeling a _little_ guilty that he left those details out, but he pushes that aside.

For right now, they’re both happy and content and everything is good, and Izuku savors it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things. 
> 
> First, I want to pre-emptively remind everyone that the Pokemon universe lets 10-year-olds run around unsupervised, and even travel across the region or go to other regions, so Ookido letting Satoshi and Izuku run around together unsupervised for an hour isn't really that far out of the question.
> 
> Second, sorry about glossing over Pika's capture! I meant to include it, especially since Spindle's was so uninteresting--the downside to having a Pokemon that only knows one move--but I was stuck for so long on writing Spindle and Blippy's battle and so exhausted afterward I couldn't make myself write Pika's, too. But don't worry! I'll write an omake for it later, probably as part of my Sunday Slowday project.


End file.
